Wishful Thinking
by JulesP
Summary: Katniss and Peeta are thrust into a changing past. How will they coop with Snow bent on being friends, Thirteen set on a war against Panem, and a New Rebellion expecting them to lead the inside take down of the Capitol? AU, M: sex/violence POV: KPGM
1. Section 1

Time does not heal all wounds. After the war Katniss struggles to move forward and embrace a new life with Peeta, but can't overcome the ghosts of her past. Will the chance to go back result in a better future or end with the same results?

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created solely for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

To those already enjoying this story, I recently had to combine chapters because of formatting restrictions on the website. The story line is the same, with the newest update starting at the end of chapter 3. Also, thank you to all those who have commented. It is encouraging and helpful to hear what you think. I have a long plot line already laid out, but I would love your input on what you want to see happen and what you think of it so far. Please review!

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Chapter 1

P POV

The warm air blows in from the open window. I watch the small strands of her hair which, framing her pale face, shift with the breeze. I watch as her delicate fingers raise the warm cup of tea to her smooth lips. She smiles as she sees me watching and a flicker of a memory passes in her eyes. Whether the memory of last night or another, I am not sure. What I am sure of is that it is the look of a good memory, not one of the many memories of pain we both harbor. The memories that turn into nightmares. The nightmares that wake in cries only forgotten as I hold her, kiss her. With this smile, last night comes into greater focus. Our bodies pressed together after another bad dream. First, holding onto each other in fear, then in want. Those beautiful smooth lips pressed against mine, pressed to my chest and shoulder, then lower surrounding me... I return the smile widely and quickly look down at my own tea but not before I am caught.

"I see you, Mellark. I can practically hear your mind turning from here. You better stop looking at me like that before Haymitch or Greasy Sae show up." She huffs. But I can still see the smile on her face. Despite her words, she looks content and another emotion I can't quite place. I ponder this... Certainly she looks healthier, maybe better rested and fed, but there is something more. The worry is not there. She looks happy and... whole I decide. I don't tell her this. That would only remind her of the ways we will both always be broken, the lost loved ones who will never return. She is a long way from the shell of a girl I found more than five years ago, when I returned to District 12. A long way from the girl who at first refused my comfort, my touch. But still, she is not the defiant, strong-minded girl from our first reaping, either. She will never be that girl again. I never feel disadvantaged to have this version of Katniss. I could never disregard any version of this woman. Still, my heart aches for the pain she feels, aches for that purer girl from the seam. If I could take all her pain, live through it all for her, so that she could be whole, I would, without any doubt or hesitation. I want to tell her all of this, that I want to truly make her whole, but I don't. Instead, I tell her another thought crossing my mind.

"You are so beautiful." I reply looking into her deep grey eyes before she shifts and blushes. That blush only emphasizes the beauty before me and I am again drawn back to thoughts of our night. The soft blush of her other parts.

The day is warming quickly, promising to be very hot by afternoon. Katniss must leave soon if she is to hunt before the forest animals settle in to endure the heat. The woods will always be a comfort to her and the routine of hunting remains. I often wonder if she actually enjoys the act or just likes the excuse to sit in peace. It is not uncommon for her to come home empty handed. I imagine the same is true for me as I bake bread or stare at a canvas. It is not always the act. It is occupying your hands with something that is second nature, while your mind can wander. I stand stiffly, pushing up with my remaining good leg and move with our plates and cups to the sink. I start the water and think of my own plans for the day. I wonder if the train will bring the painting supplies I have been waiting for. Slowly, two small hands wind around me, resting on my stomach and just over my heart. I feel Katniss press her face against my back. She inhales deeply and I am about to turn, when she whispers "I love you so much..."

My heart skips forward into a quicker pace and I smile, taking my own deep breath before I turn and embrace her. Her head now resting on my chest as I automatically reach up to stroke her hair. It is not the first time she has said it, but no matter how much time has passed, her losses make it difficult. I cherish every ounce of love she returns. I look into her eyes and again see that happiness, that wholeness. Is this me? Am I fixing her? Am I the cause of this change in her? I know she has changed me, made me as whole as a broken man can be. My questions remain unanswered as she reaches up on tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. They are soft and slow and I begin to wish what I always wish in the times like this. I wish that it could last, would last, just like this, forever. Katniss and I in love, happy in our home together. The dream I wished a million times in my youth, but now is so close I can sometimes feel it. When she breaks away there is a perceptible pause. She is waiting for my reassurance that I love her too, a question that is laughable to me. She is my everything. If I could make her mine forever, I would...

"Marry me." I stammer. I laugh internally at the end of this command as a hazy memory from the Capitol comes to mind. The night at the end of the Victory Tour, when I proposed to her the first time. Days had gone into the speech I gave in front of the entire nation. For Katniss, it was all still a show, even if it was her idea. For me, it was another chance, another hope, to show her how truly I loved her. That I would do anything, everything for her. Comparing the grandness of that moment to this one was comical; especially considering this was the real thing. It is with this thought that I am brought back to her, suddenly afraid my words are not enough. Her body is still, eyes no longer looking for an answer, but shining back with confusion and fear. I am scared to say any more, even to move. I know now that I was wrong. I should have bitten my tongue. Our lives are good enough. I have her. Why must I always demand more?

An apology is on the tip of my tongue when the front door bangs open. "Peeta!" The gruff voice of Haymitch echos from the front hall. "They made me take this crap from the train for you!" There is a loud "plunk" and I imagine small, expensive glass jars of paint shattering within the confines of the box. My eyes don't leave Katniss, but when Hatmitch makes it into the kitchen, she breaks away, face and body turned to the back door.

"You owe me breakfast boy. I don't know what the hell is in there but it was a heavy one." Haymitch is at the table expectantly before I can even move. At his request, I pour him hot water and toss a tea bag and some bread in his direction. Before I can turn back to Katniss, before even Haymitch can complain again, she turns to meet me.

"Come with me today. The lake. Will you come?" She shoots her request at me with a nervous edge to her voice. As if I would deny her anything. But I respond anyways with is much sincerity as I can muster.

"Of course."

Chapter 2

K POV

In the short time it took Peeta to usher Haymitch from the house, the day has grown humid. The thick air surrounding us makes our clothes damp almost as soon as we reach the edge of the woods. The walk to the lake is silent, with the big exception of Peeta's loud, clumsy movements behind me. Like the few other occasions I have brought him here, it takes us twice my normal time to reach the lake. I don't mind the slow pace, but wonder if the walk is too much for him. Almost as soon as the lake is in view, Peeta slumps down against the closest tree, panting slightly. I feel guilty at the sight of him. Maybe I went to fast? Maybe we should have stayed home under the shaded trees of the yard?

Though still a young man, Peeta gets slower and slower on his bad leg as the years pass. This thought throws a trill of terror through me. Peeta old, Peeta ill, Peeta gone... My only remaining claim to this world, to my own life. I cannot ever lose him. After everything, after my father, the games, Rue, Prim, the war... it is too much to bear. And I know deep down in my soul that Peeta ever leaving me would be the last straw. I would die. I have known this consciously since our first winter back in 12, but I imagine it was true much farther back.

It was during that winter. When I was still so lost, that I didn't notice at first when Peeta fell sick. I was prone to sleep for days at a time and it wasn't unusual to not see Peeta everyday when I was in this state. It was Greasy Sae who brought it to my attention one morning as she brought me breakfast. She spoke with caution, scared of my reaction.

"Now don't be scared... I think he'll be okay, but Peeta may have to go to the Capitol hospital for a while." I stared at her with confusion.

"What's wrong? Is it an episode? Where is he?" I demanded.

"No honey, he has a cold and has started having fevers. That doctor of his thinks he has pneumonia. He's at home until Haymitch gets him on the next train." A cold, that part I had remembered. The same cold I had, myself, a week before. But when had things gotten so bad? How long had I been in bed? I was suddenly very angry with myself. Stuck up here like my mother, selfishly ignoring the people around me. Peeta was sick and here I sat not even lifting a finger to help. Greasy Sae was shocked at my sudden movements. I scurried around the room first for clothes and shoes, and then out the door to Peeta. I heard her call but she didn't stop me.

I didn't knock and he didn't meet me when I entered the house. Instead I found him under layers of blankets in bed, breathing slow, heavy, wet breathes as he slept. Peeta was sick. Very sick. The fear it brought was overwhelming. I felt the tears fill my eyes and the shake of my frame as I watched him. But I didn't run. I didn't hide. I stayed with him that night, even though he was a million miles away. And as I repeatedly wet the cloth for his forehead and held his hand, I willed him to come back to me. Somewhere in the night, he came to and turned to me. A small smile played at his lips before he nodded off again and with it, I was comforted. As bad as I felt before, alone in my room, dwelling on the past, dawn brought a worst pain. My heart ached as I thought of him leaving on the train, leaving me. Would he return? Selfishly, I wanted to cling to him, hold him there. That's when I knew I had grown to need Peeta. My life was connected to his.

The train did come that morning, but it did not sweep him away. Instead, arrived a nurse sent by Dr. Aurelius with strong Capitol medicine: pills, shots, and an elaborate machine with mist for him to breathe. He came back slowly, but I was there for it all. A fact he didn't miss.

"Can't stay away." Peeta teased one morning.

"Not anymore..." I replied. And from then I didn't. Because there was no point in walling myself away from Peeta. He was already let in.

I fill a bottle I have brought in the cool lake water and walk back to where Peeta rests. He's staring at his leg. The look is one I have caught before. He hates that fake leg. Hates how it slows him. How it makes him weak. No, he has never said this. He will never say this. He wades through this loss like all of those in his life, with the greatest grace. With a smile on his face and a good show.

The water I hand him is gone in several long gulps and I stare at him in contempt.

"Not sharing today?" I tease, with my hands on my hips. He pulls me down to the ground with him in response.

"No, I'm definitely sharing." he laughs. Then his lips are on mine with firm pressure. My back finds the soft grass and I feel the heat of him over me. He feels good. Too good. But I came here with a purpose. I need him to understand. Too soon, I pull away. As he reaches forward to capture my lips again, I place my hand on his cheek.

"Swim with me." The disappointment is present on his face as I roll away. However, it is short lived as I strip down. I stand in the thin fabric of my bra and panties. I invite him into the water with a smirk and a tilt of my head.

We float in the cool water, myself more expertly than Peeta. Though his swimming has improved with time, the false leg is even harder to manage in the water than on land. We are quiet, until he pulls me in again by the hand and traces a scar down my neck to my chest with his finger. He looks nervous and I can guess what he is thinking. He is about to ask about my reaction in the kitchen. He is waiting for an answer. My stomach drops as I prepare my explanation, my only hope of not shattering him more. He is searching my face for something. Can he see my anxiety? Then, without further pause, he speaks.

"I'm sorry... I am always pushing you for more, when in truth, I already have everything I have always wanted. I have you. I love you. And you can say the same to me. I cannot ask for more. So I'm sorry, and if you tell me right now that it's not what you want...Then I swear to never ask again." The last words come in a forced whisper. Not angry, but resigned. He is forcing himself to say this because he fears my reaction. More than ever, I feel selfish. The guilt is overwhelming. I love him as much as I can love now, but not as much as he deserves. I am selfish because I will love him and keep him always. I will give him what I have, but I cannot give him a marriage, a family, or a storybook happy ending. And yet, here he stands apologizing to me. I swallow the emotion building in my throat and lead him to shore. As we sit hip to hip, staring at the pond, I gather myself one last time for the explanation I own him, my eyes fixed on the lake.

"Peeta, I do love you. I wish I could give you more. But they took it when they took Prim during the war, your family, and District 12. A marriage, a family would never be what it should." I steel myself to look at him before I say more. The worst of my words are yet to come. I falter when I meet his deep blue eyes shining with unshed tears. I am overcome by the expression he holds. Though he is filled with grief, he already understands what I am saying. With this look, I know even more that I must continue.

"I have thought about it, that life with you, even though I have never wanted marriage or children, said I never would. But still, I could see it. That night on the beach in the Quell. I could see your children here in this meadow. Running, happy and free. You and I, happy and free. I knew it was impossible. But that vision was too perfect, too beautiful. It's not that I don't know that you would be the perfect husband, the best father...but that was just a dream. The Capitol and the war destroyed it forever." His eyes never leave mine and the tears never fall. They are blinked away as he reaches out to hold my hand firmly in his.

"I know. I just had to ask. In that moment this morning, it just slipped out. An old dream of mine as well." he replies. There is a pause as he turns away.

"I wish I could remember that more clearly. My version of it shines with all the horrible words you spoke that night." This statement, incomprehensible to some, makes me sad. The Tracker Jacker venom had tainted this precious memory. Although he will remember it from video footage of the Quell, he is not able to remember the feelings attached to it. So I do what I always do when we find a memory still so wrong.

"I wasn't really pregnant. This you know. But you were trying your hardest to save me anyway. You loved me already. And I didn't know what I felt, but I was set to saving you as well. I couldn't lose you, not even then. When I said I couldn't go on without you, I meant it...That kiss was real too." I smile at the memory.

Peeta chuckles "Yes, I do like your version better. You pregnant with Gale's baby didn't seem to fit." I scowl and shake my head. However, I don't trust myself to reply. I avoid Gale in conversation. The anger at him and sorrow for my sister is still too great.

"We would be so happy," He whispers and I know he is speaking of the world we cannot inhabit.

"We would," I say, "If we could change it." Peeta looks at me sympathetically. I suddenly feel silly for my thoughts. For the dreams I have sometimes. The dreams of changing our past. But he doesn't mock me. Because I am sure he has hoped the same impossibility.

"We could never fix it all you know. There are thing we couldn't stop. Prim and I would have still been reaped. Rue..." He doesn't finish but I understand what he is saying because I have pondered it a million times. Fruitlessly obsessed over the moments I would fix. What I would do to save whomever I could. Of course, I couldn't fix it all, but in my dreams, I could save Peeta, Prim and District 12 at least. Though silly and pointless, I had a solution made up in my mind for this. A solution welded out of my hours staring into space in these very woods. I have never said it out loud to him, but the day is full of confessions and who else would understand better than my Peeta.

"No, I couldn't fix it all. But I would fix the biggest mistake. I would love you from the start. In the arena, when we where a team. I would love you just as I do now. I think it would change things. Snow wouldn't question my actions. I could make the Districts believe it to. And it would change all the rest. I would fix the rest." I end this on a slightly hysterical note, voice breaking. I feel silly again. What a silly, stupid girl to think I could change anything. But Peeta doesn't look at me like I'm stupid. Peeta no longer looks sympathetic either, but pensive, as he turns over my words. After a time, he turns back to me with a smile at his lips.

"So you love me for real now, huh?" But I don't have time for a sarcastic comeback, because his lips are on me again. So I do what I have always been better at, and put my reply in my actions. I tangle my hand in the thick blond curls at his neck and press my lips harder to his. Repositioning myself, I slide my legs on either side of him, straddling his lap. I pull in close, pressing his bare chest to me. His large rough hands press into my back and run down to my thighs. With a sudden movement, he grasps my hips more securely and pulls me the rest of the distance towards him. I can feel the excitement rising in his kisses, just as I feel him grow stiff under me.

I break the kiss in a pant and tilt my head back for fresh air. He responds by pressing his lips to my neck. The warmth grows inside me, as my want for him peaks. He raises a hand to unclasp my bra. As it falls away he returns to kiss my neck, working down my chest. The rough patchy scars there will never fade, but Peeta worships me as if I am smooth porcelain. He sucks my nipple into him mouth and a moan escapes me.

"Peeta..." I shudder as he increases pressure on this sensitive spot. I can feel he is more than ready now. I grow impatient as I feel my own want, the wetness at my center.

"Please... I want you..." I manage. He complies, turning me over and pushing me into the grass again.

We don't speak again. No words spared to worry more about the mornings events. He knows my answer. He understands. No thoughts are given to our location. District 12 is still so empty. People don't wander out this far anyway. No caution of preventing a baby. Peeta learned long ago those pills came on the train from the Capitol as well. Instead, it is just he and I, the movement of our bodies and our love. This is all we will ever have. All that is left for us. When we are spent and dusk falls, Peeta holds me close. I feel the tears fall before I realize why. I am crying for the losses of our past, as well as our future. It is then that he finally speaks.

"I would change it for you," Peeta says. "I would lay in that mud bank all over again. I would do any of it over again. For you. For us. I would take that pain and I would make this time better. And then I would marry you in the square with both of our families. I love you. I always have." He kisses my head and wraps around me more securely. I don't reply. I just let him stroke my hair until sleep finds me.

Chapter 3

K POV

Even in sleep, I am aware of a shift. The pressure and warmth of Peeta's arms diminishes and a cold breeze picks up. Peeta, like on other occasions when I have fallen asleep in unusual places, must have moved me. Are we home? Did the night cool that much to bring this gust from the open window? Still, I don't wake, and I am gently pulled back into a dream, my questions unanswered.

This dream is familiar and happy, though I can't place it. I know Rue is there. She is happy, in a field surrounded by wild flowers, where the birds sing her tunes. The dream fades all too soon and I am awoken by another singing bird nearby. Too close, in fact. Is the bird in the house?

I move my hand to wake Peeta, and find my fingers occupied. My eyes snap open. I am staring at my hand wrapped around the remains of a loaf of bread. In my line of vision, I see the rough surface of a tree and the black material that surrounds me. This is not home. This is not where I fell asleep either. With a start, I attempt to jerk my body up, but am thrown back to my stomach. All my air pushed from my lungs in a 'huff'. I feel the band around my waist and begin to panic. I am trapped. But by who or what? I struggle awkwardly for a moment, trying to pull myself free, when I get a glimpse of my right arm.

It's the same arm I had reached out to Prim in horror, as the final bombs went off. One of the many areas of my body covered in long, pink skin grafts from the Capitol. But this arm is different. It is definitely dirtier than I remember from last night, but it is also smooth of hair and defect. All these details are odd, but seemingly familiar.

Several things click into place at once. I reach down with my fresh new arm and unbuckle the belt around my waist. I turn and sit up carefully, looking around to confirm what part of my mind already knows. I am fifty feet high in a wide willow. My black sleeping bag, with supplies tucked into its depth. The bread from District 11 in my hands. The singing bird, a branch away is startled and takes flight. I can only hear her leave with my right ear. My heart races and I am left in a whirl of confusion. If what I think is happen, is actually happening, I must be careful. I want to scream and run. Most of all I want to find Peeta. This must be a dream. What else could it be? There, that is the answer. And I close my eyes, willing myself to wake in his arms, back home in District 12 in my old body.

Time passes, but no matter how hard I squeeze my tired eyes shut, I open them to this same world. Think, Katniss! Think! Where are you? What is happening? I grasp for rational thought. I need more clues. I reach in the sleeping bag and pull out the backpacks I know will be there. I unfold the first carefully and am startled, but not surprised at what I find. It is Rue's bag of meager supplies. There is the food I had left for her, untouched, and her water skin. The next bag is also not new to me. It had belonged to the boy from District 1, who, since the Victory Tour, I have a name for: Marvel. I lay the items out before me, as much as I can, suspended on a tree branch. I stare and I think. I don't need to open the final pack. I already know it is mine. And with this thought, I know the answer.

As Dr. Aurelius taught me, I mentally list what I know to be true. I am 16 years old again, back in the arena. It's the first Hunger Games. Prim and so many others have not died yet. There has been no war and no victory over the Capitol. District 12 is intact, and right now, it's occupants and the whole of Panem are watching this revelation unfold. I quickly put my head down as I try to gain control of my emotions. What must they have seen in my expressions? But then I am calmed by the absolute absurdity of it all. They may have seen a great many things in my face over the past moments: fear, uncertainty, and confusion, to name a few. However, the announcers would never comment, 'Well there is the look of the girl who has been dropped into the arena from the future.' The idea is laughable and I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from making noise. I wonder what the good doctor would think of my new list of truths.

Another truth also comes to me, just as crazy as the first. I am here to make a change. To save lives. It's the wish I spoke, only hours before, to Peeta in the woods by the lake. The dream he did not laugh at me for. In fact, didn't he wish it himself as I drifted off to sleep? He willed it, promising to live through it all again, the pain and horror of the arena, so that we might have a future together, unstained by our losses. Even the universe bends to his will with a few choice words. The idea makes me smile and I long to see his face. It will be the face of a boy still. Like the young face I must now wear. And his leg will still be there. Damaged by Cato's sword, but intact. Thinking of Peeta urges me forward. There is so much to do. I am suddenly consolidating the spread out items into my own pack. I clumsily fold the sleeping bag and make my way down the tree with my bow in hand. I climb toward the ground quickly and am pleased with the speed of my youth. The workings of a body less damaged.

I feel exposed when I hit the ground, and instantly remember why; I am lone in the arena. And I am hunted. Once again, I feel the urge to find Peeta, but stop myself. The time frame of event clicks into place. Rue has just died. The bread in my hand at dawn and unopened packs tell me this. What did I do on this day the first time? Why didn't I run to find Peeta then? The rule change, that's why. It was evening of this day that Claudius Templesmith announced the rule change that sent me running to Peeta's aid. But not right away. No, I had waited for morning to track him. I wouldn't have to track him this time. I knew where to find him. I would just make a show of it for the audience. Just think how the sponsors would swoon over my superior skills as I hunt him down with ease. But would it be safe to go in the night? Would it help him if I could get there sooner? That I couldn't say. He was already so sick the first time. With this though, confidence rises in me, because I am at least better prepared this time.

After returning home the first time, we did not speak of the games in our home. My mother and Prim had lived in horror as I fought for my life. The topic brought unease to all. One of the exceptions came from Prim one afternoon, as she gently pulled a splinter from my finger. It was wedged deep into my skin after a morning hunt and despite, my best efforts, I could not pull it loose myself.

"What would I do with out you little duck? My own personal nurse to fix me." I teased Prim

"I'm surprised you couldn't get it. You have become a good healer yourself. I was impressed with all you remembered to save Peeta," she smiled. As usual, Prim is the only person who could get away with this comment. The type that I would disregard or dispute from another.

"You would have done better." And she doesn't deny it. Instead, she tells me what I did exactly right and what else I might have tried.

The information, still locked in my memory, is invaluable. It's my first precious chance to make a change. And when I see her again, even though she will never understand, I will tell her it was she who saved Peeta.

With the joy of this thought locked inside, I begin to hunt. I will have to stay with Peeta in the cave for days when the rain comes. I recall those hungry days and, wishing to ease his healing, I work on filling two packs worth of meat, greens, and berries.

Though I stay busy, the day passes slowly, my mind on Peeta. I plan his rescue from the riverbank in my mind. I will prepare for the days to come and be ready to move at nightfall. I will stay close to the river. After the announcement, I will frantically 'search' the banks for the audience's sake. After an hour or so, I'll 'stumble upon' Peeta. And with the direction of my skilled sister, I'll have him safe in the cave long before morning breaks. I am done gathering rations before evening and, as I set Rue's fire to cook, another urgent question hits me. What version of Peeta will I find in the mud?

Chapter 4

P POV

I am cold and wet, but I feel too weak, too tired to move. Sleep finds me and all is dark again. Time passes, but I have little to measure it by.

The sun hits my face and, without opening my eyes, I enjoy its warmth. I wish someone would close the window, so I could have the heat without the wind. It takes a few minutes to feel the aches, but when they come, it is in full force. No part of me is excluded. It's the feeling of having a bad flu or fever, the kind that wrecks your body of strength and leaves even your bones sore. Curiously, the pain has several pinpoints worse then the rest. The greatest throbbing point, high up on my left leg. Or what remains of my leg, I think bitterly. Even this slight level of consciousness has worn me again. The sun shifts enough out of my face to shield my eyes again, but I don't open them. They feel unnaturally heavy. I imagine a wet cloth resting there. I wish Katniss would check on me now. Bring something to help the pain, hold my hand. I think to call out to her, but all I manage are two soft whispers of her name. She'll come, I think and the idea comforts me. Without further thought, I fall back to darkness.

It is much darker when I hear the horn. I no longer feel the gentle heat of the sun. The sound that wakes me is not the rattle of the egg timer or the alarm next to the bed. Nevertheless, it is familiar. Somewhere deep in my mind, I know this sound. Maybe Katniss can tell me? I whisper her name again, with no reply. I am still trying to place it, when a clear voice rings out. My eyes open wide and I stop breathing instantaneously, desperately trying to catch every word. Because the voice I hear is also familiar... it's Claudius Templesmith.

"Good evening, contestants! The Capitol wishes to congratulate you on the great achievement of surviving as one of the final six participants of the 74th Hunger Games! After much consideration, the Gamemakers have amended the rules for this year's contestants. The change is as follows: There may be two surviving victors, if both originate from the same district... Once again, two victors from the same district may be crowned, if they are the final competitors left in the arena. Good luck tributes, and may the odds ever be in your favor!"

My breathing begins again in gasps. The pain is back in focus. Sharp, throbbing pain starts in my thigh and runs down my leg. Intense stabs at the points of the Tracker Jacker stings pinpoint each spot. The sore ache of my burns grates against my filthy clothes. It is these facts, even more than the announcement, which tells me this is reality. No dream or delusion of mine has ever felt this real. There is no shine or glimmer to this moment. Even my worst episode does not feel this way. My mind reels to catch up and I try to slow my breathing, trying desperately to conserve energy. My memories of this game are hazy at best and I try harder than ever to sort the real memories and viewed footage from the false ones. I know I am sick, a fact that further explains my blacked out day. My head is pounding now and I am having trouble focusing. I don't have the energy to rationalize what has just happened. So instead, I solve my confusion the best way I can. I cut right through the doubt and disbelief, to acceptance. It may be crazy. It may all be in my head. But real or imagined, I am in the arena. I have to save my energy to survive for Katniss. The rest, I will sort out later.

Katniss? Where is she now? She comes to find me, doesn't she? I can't think straight, but I don't want to fall back to sleep either. What if I missed her? Did I find her before? If only I could remember. The delirium and anxiety consume me and I am fighting my way free of the mud and plants that cover me before I can stop myself. But even when my thoughts catch up to me, I don't stop. The only thought in my mind now is to get to her. I am beyond rational thought now.

I don't know how long I struggle until I free my upper body. Without the weight on my chest, I am finally able to take a deep breath properly. As I exhale, a moan escapes my lips. The sound is horrifyingly loud in the silence of the night. I press my teeth into my mud-covered lips. 'Don't be an idiot Peeta,' I think. I shudder as I think of how loud I must have been with my movements. If anyone is around now, they are sure to find me. A flicker of a memory surfaces: Cato hunting at night. Laughing at the girl by the fire before he cut her down. No, I could not make a sound. They would find me. And if Katniss is near, they will find her too. 'Pull it together, Peeta,' I think, and I start pushing the dirt off my legs. When I brush a sore spot, I bite down harder on my lip. I refuse to let my pain get me caught.

When almost all of my hiding spot is pushed away and I can see my feet, I rest. The exhaustion is pressing in. I slump a little to the side and find a rock to rest my pounding head. I don't dare shut my eyes. Instead, with the help of an over bright moon, I stare at my feet. Both of my feet, still gloriously intact. I am wiggling them, stretching them out after my long rest, when I hear it. Something falling, perhaps a stone. On instinct alone, I feel someone is coming. Whether Katniss or another tribute, I can't tell. If I wait to find out, it may be too late for me. I am unarmed and out in the open. I make a rash decision and push up with all my strength. The pain is overwhelming and my head spins, but I propel myself to the water. I'll get to the water were I can hide by the rocks. I can't run but maybe I can float away. The idea is laughable but it's my only hope. I make it two small steps and falter. My hearing is fading out. I'll black out before I make it there. I think of Katniss and I allow one more deep breath. My head stops spinning long enough to take the last step to the water. I mean it to be gentle, but I tumble as I find the riverbed. My knees splash into the water, sending another pain up my back. With this noise, I am now sure my pursuer will know my location. I try to shrink against the rocks, but I am fading fast. The volume is muted again and my vision is fading to black. Breathe. I must breathe.

I am semi-conscious again, when I hear another splash to my right. I see the legs first, but before I can guess who has found me, before I can even raise a hand as shield, a bow with a loaded arrow drops into sight.

"Peeta! It's me. I'm here," She whispers urgently. I can't see her properly but I feel the touch of her hand to my face and neck. I cling to her voice and touch like a life vest.

"Peeta, you made a lot of noise. We should move now. Someone else could be close. If you lay down, I think I can help you float." Without hesitation, I shift to my back as best I can.

"Hold your breath a minute." I do and I feel the gentle splash of water on my face, followed by a sweep of her small hands. I can just make out her face in the moonlight. Even in my foggy, mud-covered sight, she is beautiful. I smile at her. The smile she returns is tense with fear. Whether fear of my physical condition or our current position, I cannot say. She doesn't hesitate any longer. She slides glasses from her head, down over her eyes and quickly scans the area.

"Okay, let go of the rocks and we'll move now." I release the grip I didn't know I held. She has to shift the bow over her shoulder, leaving us unprotected, because it takes all her power to steer me in the current. I do the best I can to help, which mostly means keeping my lips clamped together. A surprisingly short time later, she pulls us to a stop, pushing me against the rocks again.

"Peeta, I know how tired you are now, but the cave is so close. Stay with me. Please stay with me..." Her voice has a desperation to it. I can't imagine what she sees in me now. My ragged breathing, my shaking limbs. I drag in a breath and push myself up onto my feet. The pain runs through me, but I clamp down on the sound harder than ever. She holds me with both arms again and I can hear the struggle, her own breathing rapid. My eyes remain unfocused. I have to push with each step, forcing the action, willing more life out of my aching body. When I fear I cannot go another step, Katniss tilts my head down and I feel the ground change under my feet. She lowers me to the ground and kneels beside me. I feel her hand to my cheek again and my eyes slide shut.

"Katniss…" I say in little more than a rasp, "_thanks for finding me_." She doesn't reply, but sweeps the wet hair from my face. She presses her lips to my forehead and holds herself there for minutes, as if trying to get her bearing. It occurs to me, that is exactly what she is doing. Then I feel the wet drop on my cheek, and I know she is hiding her face from the rest of Panem, not wanting them to see her breakdown.

"Hey...I'm ok. I'm with you now," I reassure her. I raise my hand to stroke her hair. It seems to calm her some. I wish I could do or say more but the darkness is pulling at me again. She pulls away, but kisses my cheek one more time before wiping her eyes and setting to work.

Chapter 5

K POV

I try to gain my composure, cursing my weakness. The other Katniss didn't fall apart at the sight of Peeta by the river. The other Katniss didn't cry on Peeta the first night together in the cave. I stop myself. I am not that other version of Katniss. My mind is older and wiser now. Peeta is no longer just the boy with the bread; Peeta is my world. Besides, wasn't that the point? To love him as I should have from the start? Certainly some of District 12 and Haymitch will notice a shift in me, but they can write it off as emotional strain. I let this calm me and I get to work.

The cave is dark enough that I doubt I could see without the glasses. It's eerie after the unnatural glow of the moon. Peeta is half awake when I begin pulling off his clothes. He does not protest, but I can see him shiver in the cold air. All the wet clothes will have to be stripped away and I'll have to get him in the sleeping bag soon. Without interruption, I am able to remove his shoes and socks. I completely cut away his undershirt. I am working on his belt when he stirs more. He is not alarmed, but looks at me for direction. Perhaps he is remembering that other Katniss, the girl too shy to see him naked. This Katniss is well aquatinted with all of Peeta, although I will avoid looking too much now. I am supposed to be more innocent at this age. What will the viewers make of the star-crossed lovers ripping clothes off the first night together? I find I don't care, as I had before. However, I explain my actions to the audience, as well as Peeta.

"I can't leave you in the wet clothes. You'll get hypothermia. We'll strip everything off and get you in the sleeping bag. I'll fix your wounds and then you can rest. You'll be warm and comfortable." I say quickly. He replies with a nod and raises his hips to help me pull off the last of his clothes. I am grateful the river has washed away most of the dirt. Certainly it was a quicker wash job than last time. Still, I have missed places, like his hair. I resign myself to fix this in the morning. I will wash him properly then and dress him in clean, dry clothes. The bag is ready and I quickly pull him into it and zip it up to his chest.

Peeta is still awake as I pull out stingers and I use this time to force a whole bottle of water into him. I apply the leaves and burn cream accordingly. At times, he tenses and his jaw locks with pain, but no more than a quiet sigh leaves his lips. I remember his cries of pain the last time around. How is he so silent now? Perhaps I am better this time around. Certainly I am faster. I'm done with the stings and burns in minutes. My attention turns to his leg to finish the job. Peeta is already is asleep again. I unzip the side of the bag and pull out his leg. I begin as I did last time, washing the wound and applying a few rounds of leaves. It's hard to tell in the dark, even with the glasses, but I think his leg is better than before. It seems less swollen and I have less pus to wash away. Maybe time has made a difference. But then again, it's been years and I had a harder time looking at it then. My memory may be deceiving me. Finally, I finish the dressing as Prim had instructed. I flush the wound several more times with clean water. Then, after washing my own hands, I fill one of my bottles a quarter full and add several extra drops of iodine. I wet a piece of gauze and push it into the wound bed, making sure to leave the surrounding skin dry. I gently wrap dry gauze around his leg and the wet dressing and sit back to admire my handy work.

I move slowly but silently to finish my chores. I refill all the water bottles and purify them. I leave these out, within Peeta's reach. I reorganize my pack, returning all the unused supplies. Finally, with great caution, again, I slip out to wash his clothes. The temperature has dropped more and my hands ache with cold, urging me to move faster. I force my hands and feet to go slow. I must avoid any more splashing. In time, I am satisfied with my job. With a last sweep of the woods, I happily return to the cave and haphazardly hang everything to dry on the rocks.

My eyes train on Peeta for any signs of distress. He is calm and almost looks comfortable in the bag. He can rest in peace now. I won't have to harass him with food or water until morning. As the stress of the past few hours dissipates, I start to feel cold, myself. My shoes and pants are wet from the river and I am beginning to shake. I already know my next move, but I put on a show for the sake of the cameras and my mother. I shake my frame harder than necessary and look at the sleeping bag with what I hope is a torn expression. After a pause, I quickly remove everything wet, leaving my bottom half in only underwear. I settle into the bag next to Peeta and awkwardly pull the zipper all the way up behind me. He must subconsciously feel me because he shifts to his back. I find myself pulled into his arms, like a million time before. It feels like home.

Peeta sleeps on, and I lie by his side, bow loaded, staring at the cave entrance. My mind begins to wonder over the day's events, and I realize I have a question left unanswered. Is this my Peeta? Or am I alone here? The other Peeta waited for me to find him, I think. But then again, he may have had time to hide again before the next afternoon when I found him. Maybe his trip in the river was just for water. This seems unlikely, but I can't be sure either way now. I wish I could have a real conversation with Peeta. I wish I could spill out the impossibility of this all. I wish I could hear, in return, all the things on his mind. But that, too, is impossible. We are watched every minute here and we have both already acted out of character today. I resolve to find out my answer in other means tomorrow. I don't know how, but I will know either way when he wakes. After all, I have lived with the man for years. There'll be a memory I can recount or inside joke that the audience will disregard.

What will Prim and my mother think of my actions today? Like earlier, the idea of Prim makes me smile. She is out there. Alive. Back home, waiting for me. I will see her soon. She would have done a better job on Peeta's leg, but I wonder what she thinks of the technique. Perhaps she thinks it's something from training or something I saw over mothers shoulder as she worked on a patient. This is unlikely, because I generally run from the house at these times. I wonder what Prim and my mother and—the name is hard to think—Gale think of Peeta. What they read in my behavior toward him. I have never shown inclination toward this boy before. Maybe they'll think our time in the Capitol served as a base to our relationship. Regardless, it will seem too soon to them. To make it believable, whether it is my Peeta or not, I will have to work to realistically build our relationship. Maybe reuse some of those old stories, some of the lines from the original games. I'll make it as real as possible. I'll make all of Panem believe me this time. It can't be too hard; I already love him. My stomach sinks a fraction as I think. No, not all of Panem will believe. Haymitch and Gale, so well acquainted to my surely attitude, my resistance to love, will not believe this shift. I ponder this for some time. The sky grows lighter through the rocks and I decide to worry about Haymitch and Gale when I have to. There is no sense thinking of that now, not when I still have to get Peeta and I through the next days. I hear the morning bird's song again and my eyes droop. I blink them open, willing myself to wake. I don't want to wake Peeta just yet; he needs the rest. I struggle and nod off several times, before I carelessly let sleep take me.

Chapter 6

P POV

I can tell a great difference in my state from the prior day. I awake with a clear head and good recall of the night's events. My arms and legs still ache with disuse, but I don't feel chilled. In fact, I am hot. The fever has broken. I start to shift, trying to shed the sleeping bag, when I spot Katniss. She is curled into her usual spot on my chest. Or what will become her usual spot, I think. Her face is the calm facade it only assumes at rest. I take in her beauty as I did last night. She is so much younger. It's not the years that had aged her, but the emotional and physical damage to her once worn body. Despite the heat, I still myself to not wake her. She was probably up most of the night. When she wakes, she'll be angry with herself for failing to keep watch and angry with me for allowing it. Extra rest will only improve her mood. No, I think, I'll let her come to in her own time.

My attention turns to my surroundings. We are in the cave. I brace for the slew of nightmarish memories involving this very spot. They come, but they are not accompanied by the usual thrill of pain and horror. My heart does not race and I do not tense in rage. Instead, these thoughts are more like a distant memory. They don't even feel like my own. More like memories of someone else. The way you might recall something aired on TV by the Capitol. I laugh quietly. That is exactly what those thoughts are, I think bitterly. I push those images back. I don't know what this all means, but it is a relief. The medication and sedatives I usually take are, very literally, years away from me now. I am surprised and pleased by this turn, but I cannot examine it more. Only time will tell. Perhaps, when I can talk to Katniss again properly, without being watched, we can theorize what it means.

Instead, I try to draw out all the true memories I have of our time here. It is much easier than yesterday, when I was stricken with fever. I find myself recalling things I had long forgotten after the Capitol got me. For example, I know today was when Katniss found me the first time. And I also know the announcement for the feast will come tomorrow evening after Katniss sees the poor state of my leg again. Maybe it is this young, fresh mind, not yet wrecked by the torture of the Capitol. I find those memories, of my capture, still much too clear. I push them from my focus quickly and search my surroundings again.

There is water, purposely placed close by. I drink half of the supply thirstily. I restrain myself from the rest. Katniss will need it in this heat. My clothes are strewn around us and realize I am still naked. I remember Katniss' sure hands, in the dark of the night. This was the confidence of an experienced woman, or, at least, one used to my body. This was my Katniss. It was at that point when I knew. The other Katniss had not come to find me so soon, either. The first time, I had almost given up on her when she stumbled upon me.

I am struck by the absurdity of my current situation. The very idea that I have gone mad is not lost on me. But I woke today free of fever and I can no longer blame anything on physical illness or delirium. Besides, I made the choice to ride this out last night. No, it wasn't last night, but before that. In a different forest, back home. I had wished, for Katniss' sake, to return here. I had promised to endure all the pain again. And am I ever. And once again I make the conscious decision to stop questioning it. My energy must be used elsewhere.

The sun is high in the sky when Katniss stirs. I stroke her hair and let her come to slowly. When her eyes lift from my chest to my face, I catch the slightest glimpse of confusion. She sweeps it away and touches the Tracker Jacker sting by my ear. She, too, it seems, has accept this incredulous turn of events.

"Katniss," I say sweetly "may I get dressed now?" Her face is flushed red and I laugh. What Panem must think of her now?

She is out of the sleeping bag in record time. I am rewarded with a brief view of her bottom and she pulls her own pants back on. I turn my head before I am caught looking. She gathers my clothes and tosses them on my lap, before turning to the cave entrance. I dress quickly in everything but socks and shoes and adjust my body on top of the sleeping bag. I am in the process of straightening out my bad leg before she speaks.

"Peeta, you let me sleep too long," she complains. An old memory surfaces.

"Don't worry, nothing was going on. _Besides I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl as much. It really improves your looks_." She, of course, scowls, but looks confused again. She doesn't respond and drops to check the water supply. She finds the first empty. She holds the container tight in her hand and looks to me, a question at her lips. She hesitates, and then speaks very quickly, as if forcing the words out.

"Not sharing today?" There is no tease in her voice this time. I immediately understand her stress and the true question she is asking.

"No, I'm definitely sharing," I smile. And she is so caught off guard with relief that I am able to get away with the same stunt again. I pull her to my lap, thankfully landing on my right leg, and kiss her. This is not the kiss I want. Not one of the lingering kisses I am spoiled on. It is soft and sweet and very short. It is our first kiss for all of Panem to see.

"I see you are feeling better," she attempts to be stern, but it is undermined by her laugh.

"Much better. All thanks to you, Dr. Everdeen. So what now?" I answer. She pauses again, before hugging me close and bringing her lips to my ear. I know what she wants to do. I pull the tie from her hair and brush my fingers through it to loosen the braid. As the curtain of black slides forward, covering her face, she speaks.

"I'm so glad its you...but we have to be careful...be convincing...just follow my lead...trust me..." She kisses my cheek and pulls back.

"I'm glad it's you who found me too. Cato likes to hunt at night." I say, just incase some bit of audio was picked up. And with that, we are the 16-year-old versions of Katniss and Peeta again.

She unloads items from her pack. She has several extra knives. I recognize them as Marvel's former weapons, but don't say so. She offers them to me to carry. I avoid one particularly lethal one, used on the crippled boy at the cornucopia. But I select two others, both light and strong. Easy to use and deadly enough in their own right. She also has a large supply of food. I am not hungry, but not nauseated either. When she presses me to eat and gain my strength, I comply without complaint, avoiding the meat. I force down two more bottles of water, and am surprised by how good I feel. Katniss seems satisfied with my efforts and packs the food away again. She insists on helping me rid the rest of the mud from my hair, but brings water to me. I am relieved; the stream seems distant in my fatigue.

"We should look at your wounds again..." She hedges. And I can't help my rebuttal.

"You're just trying to get my pants off again," I chuckle.

"You are definitely feeling too well. But that's good! Because you can change it yourself this time," she says smugly. And she continues on, to talk me through the treatment of the stings and burns. I play dumb, waiting for instruction with each action, until we come to my leg. I pull free from my pants, leaving me in my underwear. I am suddenly nervous. Not for the pain, but for the condition of the wound. She can tell and she relents on her punishment long enough to unwrap the bandage for me. As the last of the gauze is removed, we both sigh in relief.

"It looks better." She states with confidence. The gauze is colored with yellow discharge but the skin seems less swollen already. Moreover, the scary red streaks, which caution blood poisoning, are not present.

"Healer must be in your blood." I tease.

"No, not me. It's Prim and my mother who work miracles. But I do know a few tricks," she tells me modestly. "Now, back to work, Mellark."

She walks me through flushing the wound and then explains the key points. Iodine can be mixed in a high concentration with the water and used in the wound for a few days. It is cleaning out the bacteria and halting the infection.

"It will help for now, but in time it will irritate the tissue and then we will have to stop. The infection can come back..." And then they will call the feast, I think sourly.

"I know some other tricks too, for bleeding wounds." She shows me how she would have treated me if I was still losing blood. "You pull the edges of the wound tightly together with this tape from the kit. You stack several pieces of gauze over the cut before wrapping it, for extra pressure." Her explanation is lost on me for a moment, before I realize that she is not preparing me to take care of my wound. She is preparing me for hers. I am suddenly angry with her. How could she think I would allow her to run to the feast again? She's so stubborn. So ridiculously flagrant with her own safety, which is more precious than my own life. She sees my expression and must know my thoughts. But regardless of what we want to say, we cannot, in front of the cameras. Besides I know without words, we are already at the stalemate.

"I'm sorry..." She is apologizing for my anger and worry, but continues for everyone else's sake. "You must be in so much pain. You can lay down now. Maybe sleep. I'll take first watch." Her cover is so smooth. This is not something the other Katniss could ever have done. Her acting skills have improved by bounds. Though I am still angry, I am grateful for the excuse she has given my behavior. I lay down, because I really am tired again and evening has arrived. She reaches down to kiss me once more, just as gently as mine.

"Sleep now. I'll switch with you in a few hours. There'll be food and water when you wake." I close my eyes and try not to think of Katniss on the cave floor in a pool of blood.


	2. Section 2

Time does not heal all wounds. After the war Katniss struggles to move forward and embrace a new life with Peeta, but can't overcome the ghosts of her past. Will the chance to go back result in a better future or end with the same results?

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created solely for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

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Chapter 7

K POV

I am more alert tonight. No cheating on my watch this time. Just because they didn't come during the day doesn't mean they can't find us now. Logically, I know they didn't come last time, but things have already changed some. Maybe it is enough to bring the careers down on us. I grip my bow a little more securely.

I am satisfied by the progression of the day. Both finding out for certain it is my Peeta and knowing that his health is improving lightens my spirits. I turn to check on him and gently push a curl behind his ear. I wonder what the sponsors and Haymitch are making of my behaviors. Do they believe my love yet? I think over the day's events. Certainly I have been more comfortable with him, I think. A vision of Peeta, nude, tucked in the sleeping bag with me comes to mind. I smile. No, they couldn't deny the beginnings of a physical relationship between us. But what about the other side of things? The emotional side? The part that I am still so poor at. This is what Haymitch will be waiting for. I have so much history with Peeta now. I know so many stories of him and his youth, more of our time together. It's silly to think that I need to get to know him now. But this is what I must do, and convincingly. I resign myself to work hard on that tomorrow. Then maybe I can get away with kissing him for real, I think slyly.

I think back to our original games and what the next day will bring. Last time Peeta's physical state had worsened. His fever went up and he spoke out of character. They called the feast that night. Ah yes, the feast. Making it to the feast will be much more difficult this time. Peeta is too wise for my tricks now. But, however difficult he is, I must go. I just have to convince him to stay. Even with improvement, he will need the medicine. Suddenly I am nervous. Will the Gamemakers also think he needs it? Certainly the Capitol doctors will know to tell them how urgent his situation is. They must know, as much as Prim, that the infection control won't last. Even if the others are eliminated within the same time frame, we still have close to a week. I can't leave it to chance. I will make them believe it is worse. Another task for tomorrow. My agenda will be jam-packed. Too bad Effie isn't here to keep me on task. The actual day of the feast will bring more challenges, but I am too tired and too overwhelmed now to consider this. Worse come to worst, Peeta will have to think for us for a day or two. He has always been the better actor anyway.

Through the rocks, I see the moon at the peak of the sky. I shiver as the night air cools more. I eat, myself, and then I lay out a rather large meal for Peeta at his arms reach. I hope he eats some of the groosling meat this time. The water is also all filled and waiting for him before I allow myself to squeeze into the sleeping bag next to him. He feels me before he sees me and wakes. I gently place the night glasses on his face.

"How do I look?" He teases

"Like my pillow for the rest of the night," I tease back, "Your turn for watch. Make sure you eat. Please drink all the water. And wake me before noon this time, okay?" He answers by pulling my head down to his chest. My favorite reassuring spot, right over his heart. I let the rhythm of it lull me into sleep.

When Peeta wakes me, I am well rested. I am relieved to find it is still morning. After all, I have a 'big big day ahead of me' as Effie would say. I am also glad to see most of the food gone and all of the water, although I spot some meat left untouched. Peeta offers to refill the bottles but I refuse. When I return from the stream, I have on my game face.

"How are you today?" I stare at him with meaning and I raise my hand to his forehead. "You feel hot." I exclaim before he can speak. I make a show of wetting his head with a cloth and giving him the fever pills. They can't hurt him, right?

"I thought I was feeling a little better," he says, slightly perplexed. He didn't understand where I was going with this.

"I don't know Peeta... I don't _trust_ that leg yet," I emphasize my words and hope he follows. He leans back against the rocks and I hope he understands.

"I thought it was just cold today," he says weakly. "I should check my leg. Will you help me?" He is suddenly so pitiful, even I almost believe him. He makes if difficult for me as I shed his pants, leaving his limbs limp and uncooperative. I can tell he is feeling too well again and is enjoying tormenting me a little. I unwind the bandage just enough for me to see it, but try to keep it shielded from Peeta and the camera. It looks pink, clean, and less swollen. It is healing well. I redo the dressing in a hurry and try to look upset. Peeta follows along, right on cue.

"It's bad isn't it..." He says morosely. I shrug but don't reply. I make a show of rewetting his forehead cloth. He pauses and pulls another line form our own script, "I don't need to have a mother who's a healer, to know what blood poisoning is Katniss." Thank you Peeta, I think.

"When we win they'll fix it Peeta. The Capitol has the medicine you need," I say with desperation. "You just have to hold on." I know this is all supposed to be fake, but fear rises in me. The same fear I get whenever I think of being parted from him. We are in the arena now and nothing is certain. I shake and I think he can see the pain in my face. He pulls me down and kisses my head. I let him comfort me for several moments, but there is still so much to get done.

"_Peeta...do you want anything..."_ I whisper

"_No, Thank you. Wait, yes. Tell me a story_..." and just like that, we pick up our script from our first games.

Chapter 8

P POV

"_Well, That's it. Only I remember that night, Prim insisted on sleeping with Lady on a blanket next to the fire. And just before they drifted off, the goat licked her cheek, like it was giving her a good night kiss or something, it was mad about her already." _Katniss finishes her story. She has found her way to her usual spot again and I twirl her hair in my fingers.

"_Was it still wearing the pink ribbon?"_ I ask, following the script to a T. I don't know exactly why we are doing it, but I do trust her. After all, this was all her plan from the start. She must have it all elaborately sketched out.

"_I think so,"_ she says. _"Why?"_

"_I'm just trying to get a picture," I say."_ I can see why that day made you happy"

"_Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine."_ She lies poorly. The words sound so foreign coming from her mouth. My Katniss wouldn't have denied any joy associated with Prim. I know Katniss must be thinking the same. She will love her twice as much when we get home.

"_Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping,"_ I tease, but then another thought hits me and I veer away from the conversation.

"I wish I could draw or paint it. Right from that memory for you." I say. She raises her head to look in my eyes, but continues.

"Can you paint?" Katniss covers for me.

"No, well... cookies and cakes in the bakery. Not the proper paintings they have in the Capitol." I offer.

"I don't think their picture would fit on a cookie," she laughs. "I didn't know they were your work, but I've seen the cakes. They are beautiful. Prim loves them. Well the decorations at least. We've never eaten one. Peeta Mellark's works of art are out of our price range." She pauses and adds "But I would like that... I mean, for you to paint them. If you can..." I know she means these words. These are my Katniss' words. I could never recall Prim or lady properly to paint before. She would love it. The vision of a perfect day dances in my head. Katniss, Prim, Lady and me, on a warm day, painting in the yard. Joy and laughter on Katniss' face. No worry, no loss.

"Maybe if we make it back, I can paint it properly," I say. "I owe you after all." I attempt to get back on track.

"For what?" She whispers and I can tell she is dreaming of that day too.

"For saving my life, of course. But don't worry, I know how much more I owe you and I intend to pay it all back," I say sincerely

"You saved me once too. I will always owe you for that bread." She answers. I am confused. This is a different conversation, one meant for later...

"_The bread? What? From when we were kids? I think we can let that go." _I say, though I know, even my Katniss never let this go.

"_But you didn't know me. We had never even spoken. Besides, it's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back. I wouldn't even have been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then. Why did you do it?"_ she says. What is she heading for?

"_Why? You know why,"_ I say with all the conviction I can manage. Her lips are on mine then. I am taken aback and pleased by this turn of events. This is not the gentle pecks we shared yesterday. This is one of our own kisses. I press my mouth firmly to hers slowly parting her lips and catch just the tips of her tongue with mine. She kneels beside me now, bracing one hand on the rocks behind me, and the other at the base of my neck. My own arms find their way around her and I try to pull her forward to my lap. She stops and leans her forehead against mine, gasping a little for air. I want more. I want to be surrounded by her again. The heat of our bodies pressed together. But I know she is thinking of the audience, the cameras watching our every move.

I realize, now, exactly what she is doing. She is putting on a show again. For just a moment, this makes me bitter. The old Capitol versions of events cue up in my head. The hazy, but haunting images of her kissing me one minute and slapping me the next. She is using me again, I think. No... I stop myself. This is my Katniss, who loves me. She is keeping me safe. She still wants me, just as I want her. As I find her deep gray eyes, I can see it there. This time the act isn't faking our love. The act is being patient enough to build our relationship convincingly. I laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, and Katniss joins me. She pulls away, taking my hand in hers, and sits right against my hip.

"I wish you had some bread for me now," she teases.

"Me too. That meat doesn't sit right in my stomach," I say. And almost immediately, we hear a clunk outside. She returns quickly, bread half unwrapped in her hand and looking content, almost smug, and I think I know why. She is pleased with her acting. Haymitch and the sponsors are also pleased. The bread is our proof. We must be convincing as the star-crossed lovers from District 12. I hope we would be, after years of actually being in love.

I can see the steam roll off the bread in the cooling air. Evening is arriving. The sight is mouth watering. She sits back at my side and we divide the whole loaf. I don't want stale bread for breakfast. I put one arm back around her as we eat. It's just as good as it looks. The confined space of the cave intensifies the smell of yeast and grain. Another round of memories is sparked. I am reminded of home. I don't think of my family or the bakery much. The memories were clouded by the Capitol, tainted like so many other good things in my life. However, I find what I did earlier, when thinking of the Games. My memories from home are blissfully intact and easier to recall now. I pause to remember my family clearly, for the first time in years. I find I still don't care for my mother's stern nature much, but there are shining moments when she does show affection. Most are of me as a very small child. My brothers are there too; genuine joy is on their faces the day I return home from the first Games. When I think of my father, I have to blink back tears. I see his skilled hands teaching me to work the ovens and decorate pastries with frosting, and bandaging a burn on my forearm. Katniss is looking at me, but the horn sounds. All other actions and thoughts are forgotten...

"Greetings, once again, remaining tributes. The Gamemakers are pleased to announce a feast in your honor!" Claudius Templesmith's voice rings out strong and clear. I stare at Katniss, already shaking my head. _"Now hold on. Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately. Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance,"_ Claudius's voice fades with an ominous tone. I hear this message with new ears. This is what Katniss wanted this morning when she dramatically redressed my wound. Our show was to insure the feast, to guarantee the medicine for my leg. I am angry again with Katniss. My leg was better. I could tell, even with her shielding it. I feel strong today. Her ministrations to my leg have worked. Before I can stop, my anger bubbles over.

"You are not going!" I shout. If anyone is close by, we are dead. But I can't bring myself to care. Even with Katniss' knowledge and experience, it is not a given she will make it back.

"Shhh, Peeta!" She whispers just as mad. But then she changes tact quickly. She strays completely from our script and catches me off guard with honesty.

"Please, Peeta. Please, I have to go. Your leg will get worst. I can get the bag. I'll make it back. I promise. You have to trust me. Just trust me..." She says in a rush, emphasizing her last words. Trust her? She wants me to allow her to drug me. She wants to run off to the blood bath with the loose hope that Thresh will save her again from Clove. I will find her sometime late tomorrow in her own blood. No, I can't. There is too much to put to chance, too much to go wrong. At the feast, the slightest shift of her body, this way or that, could send a blade into her heart. No first aid training could save her then.

"I won't die, Katniss. I'm not going anywhere but back home to District 12, with you." I am still mad, but there is worry in her eyes. She needs my reassurance.

"Please, Peeta...I can't stand it." She says, a little hysterically. Her carefully crafted act is crumbling at our feet. I need something to calm her down, something to get us back on track with the viewers. I rack my mind for something, a line to focus her. A plot she can follow so she doesn't have to think too much.

"_Don't die for me Katniss!"_ I grip her hand hard, willing her to follow. _"You won't be doing me any favors. All right?"_

"_Maybe its for myself," _she retorts._ "Maybe you aren't the only one who...who worries about... what it would be like if..." _She stumbles over the words, just as the first time, but boldly adds more in a more confident voice.

"...If I lost you. I'm not good with talking about my feelings, but that doesn't mean they are not there Peeta." She speaks the truth. Some things never change. I don't reply, but I tug her forward gently. She sits on my good knee and presses her face to my neck. I feel the warm kiss she plants there. I feel my want for her rise in my chest. I slowly rub up and down her back. When she is calmed, or in too much need herself, she lifts her face to mine. I capture her lips. I try to go slow, not to push too far, but Katniss doesn't help. She grabs my neck again and her teeth graze my bottom lip. I give an involuntary shudder and pull her into me with force. My hands rest on her back and her smooth long hip. Her fingers knot in my curls and her free hand suddenly balls the front of my shirt into a fist. Our kiss is deep and I am already breathless. She is unrelenting as she thrusts her soft tongue against mine, urging me for more. She wiggles an inch over, just enough to brushes against the seat of my pants. I am not hard, but too alert of her touch. All of Panem is seeing us now. My brothers will be cheering me on, but for Katniss' sake, I must stop now. Prim and her mother are watching. The Games are notorious for their lack of censoring. I have no doubt that they would air us having sex. Katniss is not thinking of this, but she would hate herself after. I gently shift her to my side, but I don't release her.

"And Haymitch though you would be hard to convince," I joke. She is confused for a moment then laughs with me. I wonder what Haymitch is thinking now.

There is no more talk while Katniss lays out another large meal and forces all three water bottles into me. I eat and drink with caution, awaiting her next move. The audience will be waiting too. On the edge of their seats, wondering if she will go, wondering what I'll do about it. By the time we are full and Katniss has left the cave on the pretense of water, I have formulated my own plan. I know there is a package with sleep syrup waiting for her by the stream. I am a little surprised when she doesn't return with berries. Instead she tosses me one of the water bottles.

"Finish this one, so I can refill it." It is a casual comment and if I didn't know her so well, I might believe it. I try to smile convincingly and toss back the bottle to my lips. I pretending to drink and swallow. I can taste the tiniest hint of syrup on my lips. I widen my eyes at her in mock horror. I hope she is buying it. When she steps forward and speaks, I know she has.

"I'm sorry. I had to. But I promise to come back. Just sleep and I'll see you soon," she coos.

"Katniss, don't do this," I beg one more time for show.

"Just remember what I told you about your leg." She tucks the sleeping bag around me and kisses my head. I don't protest. As she starts to lean away, she whispers quickly in my ear, "I love you." I fall into my pretend sleep and listen as she prepares and then exits the cave.

Chapter 9

K POV

I am a horrible person, I think as I ghost through the forest, towards the lake. I see Peeta in my mind and the words "if looks could kill" come to me. I'll come back unharmed this time and he'll understand. Or I hope he will. I wish I could have explained properly, but that probably wouldn't have mattered. Peeta will always be Peeta. He will always love me too much, greater than I deserve. And he will never understand how much I love him. Or what it means to me for him to live. But I have a plan. A better one than last time.

I take the river route, careful to listen with my good ear. Somewhere close are the other tributes. With my night glasses, I scan the bushes for Nightlock. I remember them along the bank. They must be close. I have almost given up when I spot them, twenty yards from the edge of the woods. I gather handfuls and stuff some in the leather pouch and one on Rues socks. I load my bow and continue to the edge of the woods. The area is quiet. I wonder if Foxface is in the Cornucopia yet. I hesitate, debating my odds of finding her. But there is no way to tell. There is also no way to know who is watching. But the night is young and my trip here was fast. Maybe no one else is in place yet. Waiting will not help, I decide. So I throw myself as quickly and quietly as possible toward my target. I am slowed by my raised bow, but the firm ground helps propel me forward. I make it to the opening of the golden structure and dive in. Foxface is nowhere to be found. I huddle at the back and wait.

All traces of light are gone when I hear her. She has soft footfalls, but she is breathing heavy. Yes, she is smart, but not an athlete. When she dives inside she comes very close to me. She doesn't expect someone else to try this. When her eyes adjust, she gasps. No, we are not alone, I think.

"Sit down and be very quiet." I instruct her. She complies, either because she is unarmed or too trusting. I'm betting the first. She studies me and I feel like I am caught in a staring contest. I have started to count her freckles when she speaks finally.

"You won't kill me now because it will give you away, as well." She concludes. Her voice is not what I expect. I don't remember her interview, but it seems too soft, too sticky sweet for someone so sneaky. I don't like her smugness. But she is right, of course. A canon and hovercraft would be like a sign over my head. I feel a little annoyed by Foxface, but I do not want to kill her. Yes, her death will happen eventually, but I don't want my nightmares filled with those freckles and smug smiles.

"When dawn comes we take our own packs and leave. Don't follow me." I tell her. She nods once in understanding. Our staring match resumes.

The hours pass very slowly. At first, we sit tense, ready to strike. My hands are stiff on the bow with cold. At least we are shielded from the wind. I think of several things to say as a way to pass the time, but I don't speak. Neither does she. She must realize, as I do, that it is pointless. After all, we are not here to make friends. Knowing her as a person, in any way, will make it harder to kill her. One of us must die for the other to go home. If it was the first day, it might be different. Well, maybe not. I wouldn't trust her, even then. She's too smart to ever really trust.

When I can't take it anymore, I pull out a rabbit leg, some roots, and mint leaves to chew. Foxface eyes me enviously. I can almost hear her stomach growl. 'Don't feel bad, Katniss. She is the enemy. She would not share if the situation were reversed.' This, I am sure of. But as the sky lightens, I falter. I have pulled off my night glasses and can see all the lines of her thin face. I am reminded of the starving children back home in the Seam. I need to pull out the berries anyway, I think. I hold the berries in the pouch and toss her a large rabbit leg. She looks at it with suspicion, but hunger wins out and she dives in. I hear a rumble underneath us. I tighten my bag over my shoulder and stand. My bow is still loaded, but I tuck it to my side. Foxface is up as well, still wiping the grease from her face. She nods at me once. I nod back and we finally turn away from one another. 'Please die soon,' I wish, 'so I don't have to kill you later.'

The table clicks into place. The small orange bag with a 12 sits right in front of me. I don't allow any pause. I am out of the Cornucopia before Foxface. I reach the table in one long stride and am off with the pack around my wrist. It feels as weightless as last time, but I don't examine it further. I just run. I remember the berries before I reach the woods and drop them. I hope they get picked up. I am winded, but I don't dare stop. Instead, I run and run. I wonder how quickly I can make this trip. I slow slightly, but I refuse to stop as long as I can physically move. A cramp hits my stomach, probably from my meal in the Cornucopia. With my side aching, I have to hunch over for air. I slump slightly against a tree and force my composure as I check my surroundings. I am along the river, maybe only fifteen minutes from the cave, if I run. I will allow myself another deep breath before I start again. But then I hear what I missed because of my loud breathing. Someone is following me.

Their lone footsteps are fast. It won't take them long to get to me. I could move, but where? I can't lead them back to our cave, to Peeta. Besides I'm too winded to run anymore. I will fight. The idea terrifies me. How silly to be scared of one attacker after fighting through a war. But I don't have more time for thought because, when I check over my shoulder, I glimpse her dark hair and the glint of her knife in the sun. I know my bow won't help this close, so I drop it gently and pull my own knife. I push away from the tree, but Clove is too fast and she is already throwing my body to the forest floor. I can't let her pin me, I think. But her expert hands maneuver too swiftly. I know what is coming and I cannot stop it. My heart drops as she swings her knees up to pin my shoulders to the ground. She smirks her evil grin as I flail my legs under her. There is no give in her death grip. District 2: military. They probably teach this tactic to kindergarteners. She swings one of her knives over my face like a pendulum. She smiles wider and turns her head slightly.

"Cato, I got her," She screams suddenly, and I can hear him coming now. I feel sick.

"_Where's your boyfriend, District Twelve? Still hanging on?"_ She mocks. I don't dare answer. I don't dare make any sound. Peeta is closer than I like and calling out now could expose him. Instead, I stare at her with all the loathing I can muster. She is impatient, waiting for Cato, as well as my answer. I feel a sharp pain as she slaps me hard across the face.

"You think you are so clever, Girl on Fire. With all your silly tricks, the nest and your hiding spot at the feast. I bet you even think you are clever enough to keep Lover Boy's heart going. _What's in that pretty little backpack? That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it," _she laughs, and to my horror, Cato's laugh joins hers. I can turn my head enough to see him now. He is just as massive and frightening as I remember. I close my eyes for just a moment and I pray silently for Peeta's own safety. I beg him to forgive me for bringing us back here. Hope, against all hope, that he can live on without me. I feel another slap assault my tender cheek and open my eyes again.

"Wake up. You'll miss all the fun," she taunts. In annoyance I turn from her again. Cato is laughing in appreciation as he drops to the ground to watch us. He carries two large bags, which he sets at his side. I am about to face Clove again when I see it. The small brown pouch in Cato's hand.

"Let's get on with it Clove, I'm hungry." And in one smooth motion, he empties the bag in his palm and tosses the dark berries into his mouth. I look back to Clove with triumph on my face. She has no idea what is coming. At first, her own face is spread with a large grin at Cato, then it falters in confusion. She visibly jumps when the cannon sounds. For just a moment, she is distracted, still trying to make out the sequence of events that has unfolded. Her arm is reached out to Cato, as if to help. Some pressure is lifted from my left shoulder and I use the weakness. Pushing with all my strength, I shove her away from me, towards Cato's body. She rolls and I am able to gain my feet seconds before her. She is shorter than me, but her instant rage seems to make her grow. I don't get a single step before I am backed into a tree. She grabs my face and forcefully slams my head back. My eyes lose focus.

"You just made the biggest fucking mistake of your life," she nearly screams. I grab her arms with my own and try to wiggle my face free from her grasp. She screams like a wounded animal and my head is thrown back again. I feel vomit rise in my mouth, but then the pressure of her is gone. She screams again, this time with physical pain. The ache in my head is too great to reason what has just happened. I slump to the forest floor and retch until my stomach is dry.

The ground has stopped spinning when I hear the second cannon. The loud, clumsy footsteps approach me. Tears sting my eyes and I look up at Peeta in relief.

Chapter 10

P POV

I fall to my knees in the leaves beside her. Tears are already streaming down her face and she lifts her arms to me like a small child. I pull her to my chest, wrapping her in my embrace and try to stop her trembling. I realize, with a start, I am the one shaking. 'I almost didn't make it in time,' I think with a thrill of terror. I take deep calming breaths and focus only on her. The smell of her hair. The feel of her in my arms. 'She is safe now.' I chant this in my mind over and over to steady my nerves. There is a lot to say, but we are both beyond words now. I know we should move, for the hovercraft and our own safety. Katniss exhales and sniffles once more. I pull away to kiss her head and wipe her tears. She nods at my gestures reassuringly. I grab the bags at Cato's side, but leave my knife in Cloves chest. I take Katniss' hand and she rises. She is unsteady, so I keep a firm hold on her. When she reaches for her weapons, backpack, and the orange bag, I intervene and take that as well. I place a pack on each of our backs and carry the rest in my arm. She still looks pale and weak. I wind my arm around her for support and we head to the cave. I don't look back when I hear the hovercraft.

We are quite a sight to see. The urgency of the moment has worn off. The days of lying in the mud, weak and ill, have caught up to me. It's probably been a week since I exerted this much physical effort. Half leaning on one another, we stumble back to the cave. We are down two more tributes and up extra supplies, but there is no celebration in us. We have both killed again. It feels just as horrible this time around. I am exhausted when we reach our section of the river. Katniss has improved enough to help me now. She takes all of our luggage first, then wades back for me.

The day is young, but neither of us have slept. We both strip off our wet shoes and pants and huddle together in the sleeping bag. The day is cold. I can hear the telltale sounds of a coming rain. We don't discuss a watch schedule. We don't speak at all. Besides, no one will come for us. The careers are all dead. We are probably the likeliest predators now. Katniss hesitates next to me, then reaches for the orange bag, sheds the wrappings and injects me in the arm with the antibiotic. Without comment, she rests her head over my heart and we fall off to sleep.

I wake from a nightmare of Clove's last moments. I see her struggle for her last gurgling breath, before the rain hits my cheek. I wake with a start. I sit up quickly, bringing a sleeping Katniss with me. Her eyes fly open and focus on the cave entrance.

"No, it's ok," I soothe. "I was having a dream and the water hit me. I'm sorry I startled you."

"It's okay," she says "it's probably time to wake up anyways. I should look at your leg."

"You first," I demand. "How's your head?" I gently examine her head with my fingers. I'm not sure what I am looking for or what I will do if I find something. Perhaps I am just making sure she is completely intact for my own reassurance. When I brush the back of her scalp she winces.

"It's just tender there. I have definitely had worse," she tells me. This I know, of course. She is probably thinking of the last time Clove got to her.

"What happened, Katniss?" I ask. "I only found you there at the end." She tells me about hiding in the Cornucopia with Foxface, and Cato and Clove tracking her back. She explains about the poison berries, and makes a point to show me the ones she has left. I am horrified by her actions, her carelessness, but not angry. My anger from the feast is gone now. Nothing is as sobering as almost losing Katniss. And I tell her so.

"I'm not going to be mad, because I almost lost you. But please...you have to be more careful. No more games or tricks. You need to trust me too, okay?" I plead.

"I do trust you, Peeta," she answers meagerly. 'Take what you can get,' I think.

She positions the plastic sheet from her bag over our heads and redresses my leg again, this time without the iodine. It looks healthy and she seems pleased with her work. It will be on the mend for some time, but I feel good. I hope I will even get to keep it this time.

With all the large meals we have been eating, our supplies are limited. We will be out soon. Ignoring this, Katniss serves us each a large portion of berries and greens and all the rest of the meat, claiming it will go bad soon. I don't question her, but I know what she is thinking. When we get hungry again, if she can't hunt, Haymitch will send us food. By now we will have hoards of sponsors in the Capitol.

After dinner, she starts in on the other packs. One contains another sleeping bag. The other is Cato's body armor.

"Looks like it will fit you," she says with a smile, but she doesn't force me into it yet. Instead, with a little effort, she combines our supplies with the armor and the extra bag and tucks it all into two backpacks. "Who knows when we will have to move."

"What do you think is in store for us next?" I ask

"That's anyone's guess at this point," she replies darkly. It's true, we don't know anymore. We have parted from the story so completely now, that truly anything could happen. I think of the Quell and the predictable attacks of each time zone. Was our Games similar? I ponder this and assemble what I know in my mind. The fire only reached a certain point in the forest. The mutts ran to the lake. And it flooded in the wheat field. 'The wheat field!' I think in triumph. I know Cato and Thresh battled there from the footage, but there was more. The rain floods the low-lying land. Thresh struggles with the current. I want to ask Katniss if she thinks Thresh can swim, but I bite my tongue. Only time will tell...but I hope with all my might the Gamemakers flood out our opponent from District 11.

We watch Cato and Clove appear in the sky at nightfall. After the anthem, Katniss and I take turns at watch. The night is uneventful except for the rain, which is fiercer than I remember. It's impossible to tell when morning has arrived because the sky remains so dark. It leaves an ominous feeling and I can't help but think I might be right about the field flooding. At breakfast, we finish the rest of our rations and sit quietly together. I feel anxious and uneasy. Probably exactly how I felt the first time around. I want to take Katniss home. I want to sit on our porch and paint while the sun sets. I want to make love to the women lying next to me now. Maybe she is feeling anxious as well because Katniss picks up our conversation.

"_Peeta, you said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?" _She asks innocently. I want to laugh, but get away with a smile.

"_Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a plaid dress and your hair...it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up," _I recite. Although I am sure this will intrigue Panem, I can't imagine Katniss will like this story a second time. I am very wrong. She smiles widely, eager to hear more.

"_Your father? Why?_" she asks.

"_He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,'"_ I tell her.

"I never knew that. My mother never said anything..." She is referring to the past and future. Neither Mrs. Everdeen, nor my family mentioned this after the first Games. Although, I am sure my mother holds a grudge.

"_And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen.'" I say_

"They did listen to him, it was so beautiful," she recalls

"_So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent. And right when your song ended, I knew - just like your mother- I was a goner."_ My heart swells at the memory and I am happy she has coaxed it out of me. She smiles again and blushes.

"You don't sing anymore," I tell her. She shakes her head slowly.

"No, I don't. _But you have a remarkable memory._" She takes my hand in hers. I play with her fingers.

"_I remember everything about you,"_ I kiss her head. _"You're the one who wasn't paying attention."_

"_I am now,"_ she says sincerely.

"_Well, I don't have much competition here,"_ I say. She stares up at me with intent eyes, and when she speaks, I know she means every word.

"_You don't have much competition anywhere,"_ she whispers and I close the gap between us. When our lips touch, she practically melts to the cave floor. I roll to my side and hover my injured leg over her as I lean in. Her mouth is soft and gentle. She is putting me in the lead, allowing me to set the pace. I struggle to keep my hands in the safe zones of her arms, face, and hair. This innocent, submissive Katniss is almost more alluring than the sure and persistent one. She lightly parts her lips for me and I slide my tongue roughly against hers. Her own hands run down my chest to my belt. I slip, my hand touches a patch of exposed stomach and begins its way up over her smooth skin. There is a clunk outside and Katniss looks startled.

When I return from retrieving our dinner from Haymitch, she has a funny expression on her face. She recovers quickly and acts excited for the meal. It's her favorite, lamb stew. As we eat, I watch her. She seems almost tense. She looks frustrated. She looks...exactly how I feel. Stuck in a 16-year-old's body and full of pent up sexual tension. This is going to be a long few days.

Chapter 11

K POV

'I hear you, Haymitch,' I want to scream at the sky. We tuck into our meal and I wonder if the blush is still spread across my face. The first Games, Haymitch had to weasel this type of love and affection out of me. This time around, both he and Peeta have to restrain me from going too far. Haymitch must understand, like Peeta, I would not be happy to go further with my mother watching. This idea springs all of District 12 into mind. What did everyone make of our 'new' romance? I think Prim, at least, could see the truth in my feelings. 'Yes, she will be our biggest cheerleader,' I think with a smile. Once again, the idea of her there at home, just waiting for me, is so undeniably precious. My mother will be more cautious. I wonder what she will say to the reporters this time. Surely she doesn't really think I am too young for a boyfriend. The idea of my mother truly trying to keep us apart is almost laughable. If the Capitol and their torture couldn't do it, surely I can manage my mother. Plus, I know my heart this time around. Nothing will keep me from Peeta. People can be difficult, but they can't be any worst than Snow, and I survived him. The topic of difficult people brings someone else to the forefront: Gale. Yes, Gale would be difficult. More than my mother's trying to lay down rules. More than Peeta's family with their biases. Maybe, just maybe, even more difficult, in some ways, than our evil president. Gale will refuse to accept what he sees on the screen. He will want to know what I am doing and thinking. All answers I cannot fully give him. Another emotion festers in me, anger. Though it is from another lifetime, how will I forgive Gale for his sadistic bombs? The ones that stole my sweet Primrose from me. I am homesick for 12, eager to see Prim, and wanting of Peeta's touch, but suddenly I am grateful of the time I am allotted before I must deal with this particular obstacle.

When the anthem plays, Peeta asks me to check the sky. I am closer to a good crack, but I grumble a lot. Because really, what's the point? As I press my eye to the hole, I realize, with a start, that the rain has stopped. How lost in Peeta's embrace had I been to not notice before? I push this away and turn my attention to the task at hand. With a jolt of confusion and shock, I stumble back to the cave floor. Peeta looks at me knowingly for a moment and then checks the hole in the rock. He will see what I did. It is the clear picture of Thresh's face in the sky. 'How?' I think, and Peeta answers the question I cannot find words for.

"I wondered, when the rain was so heavy, if it would flood that field. It's low there. I think...maybe he drowned..." Peeta's words stir a memory in me. The field was flooding the first time, but the Gamemakers did not press this 'natural' killer because Cato was coming for him. With Cato out of the way, they must have used this other tactic. Maybe they are happy with the level of carnage. Maybe the Capitol is so in love with us now, they can't bare to see us against Thresh. 'No,' I think bitterly, 'they are ready to send the mutts.'

"Maybe you're right," I finally manage. "They must be ready to end it. We should be prepared for anything. They could drive us and Foxface together at any time." My words are carefully chosen for Peeta and the Gamemakers. It is clear by Peeta's intense gaze he understands. Tomorrow we move to the lake to wait out the Games. The Gamemakers will also receive my other message, loaded with my intentions. We are not a hunting pack like the careers. If you want to end it, you'll have to send the Mutts. I don't want to see them again. Their eyes are already burned into my memory. But I know it will take days and days to find Foxface, if we are lucky. And then Peeta or I will have to kill her. And then I will be able to count the freckles as her life ends. No, I can't have that memory stuck in my mind. I will let the mutts bring her to us. They will catch her; she's not as fast as Cato. The arrow that spears her heart will be in mercy, not hate. Maybe then I can live with myself, sleep through the night. I am probably deluding myself, but I cling to the hope.

After we eat half the content of the dinner basket, I tell Peeta to wash in the river and fill the water bottles. He complies because he understands, as I do, the riverbed will be dry tomorrow. When he returns, I offer to bandage his leg again. Its condition has improved even more. The wound bed is filling in and you can't see bone anymore. But I don't want to take any chances. I unroll the last of the sterile gauze around his leg as I finish the dressing. Peeta looks annoyed with me. He's probably thinking I am pointlessly wasting the last of this precious supply on him. I don't care. I want him to keep his leg this time. Not for me, but for him. I never want to see that bitter look in his eye as he stares at his prosthetic leg again.

I repack every thing, trying to fit it all in two packs, while keeping the most important items at the top. It is difficult with the addition of or dinner. After a little struggling and more frustration, I decide to leave the armor out. This equipment, Peeta will wear tomorrow anyways. Once the remaining supplies and water are in our packs, ready for a fight, I take a moment to go to the stream myself. The night is cold, but I do the best I can to scrub my hands, arms, and face with sand from the riverbed. I long for my tub at home, with soft, sweet smelling soap. The woods are eerily quiet. I wonder what Foxface is thinking now? Does she know she has hours to live? Or does her smugness remain intact? Does she believe she can outlive Peeta and me to become Victor? There is no malice in this thought. Only sadness for the girl, no more than a child, like Rue or Prim. For once the odds are in my favor, because I am not a child. Though physically we are young again, I retain the wisdom of an older woman. It's not only the knowledge of the Games, but the knowledge and sensibility that comes with adulthood. These children, all of them, even Cato and Clove, are so naive to the real world we live in. There is so little they know of good and evil outside their own limited existence. Winning would never bring them any good, only more suffering. I pity them all. They never had a chance. 'We never had a chance,' I think bitterly.

I have removed at least one layer of grime from my skin. I hesitate with the cold and then shake out my hair. I quickly plunge it into the icy water, scrub my scalp several times, and lift my head again. I do the best I can with chilled fingers as I wind my hair back into a braid. Peeta is waiting for me and insists I rest first. I settle down against him for warmth and he pulls my hood up over my wet hair.

"Are you trying to get pneumonia or are you just worried about the wrath of your prep team when they see your hair and nails?" Peeta teases me. I give him a trademark scowl, but we both laugh.

"I'm not worried about my prep team, it's..." I falter because there are so many things and people to worry about. I could list them all now, but Peeta already knows and it would confuse the audience. Instead I pick the very least of my worries. Something silly and superficial. Something another teenage girl would stress over.

"...it's just...Peeta, _since we were five, you never noticed any other girls?"_ I blush. Not embarrassed by my love for him, but embarrassed for how silly I sound now. But if he answers as he should, every teen girl and wealthy sponsor in Panem will swoon for him and our love story. He does not disappoint.

"_No, I noticed just about every other girl,"_ he laughs light-heartedly at my discomfort, _"but none of them made a lasting impression but you." _I'm not jealous, necessarily, but I suddenly wonder if the cave was Peeta's first kiss. I think it may not be. With those blonde curls and light blue eyes, he is too beautiful to go untouched. I can picture him in the corner outside the schoolyard, holding the hand of another girl from town. He strokes her cheek gently and kisses her lips. It probably never happened, or at least not like in my head. I can't judge him, hadn't I kissed Gale? I decide to ask him later about it anyways. 'Just for curiosity,' I tell myself.

"_I'm sure that would thrill your parents, you liking a girl from the Seam,"_ I follow.

"_Hardly. But I couldn't care less. Anyways, if we make it back, you won't be a girl from the Seam, you'll be a girl from the Victor's Village," he says. _I could continue on with the script, but I want my version of Peeta and his own words now. I want him to paint me a mental picture, like only he can do.

"What do you think it will be like at home?" I whisper. He pulls me closer and I hear his heart under my good ear pick up pace, just a beat or two. Is he scared? Happy? Anxious? All of the above, I decide. At least that's what I am feeling.

"I think…well…some people will be surprised by us." Like Gale, I think bitterly. "Others happy, but concerned," he says.

"Why?" I think out loud.

"Because they think we are too young to feel this way," he concludes, and of course, he is right.

"How is it that we feel?" I smirk at him. Now it's his turn to blush. I can see the debate in his head. Should he say it? I start to wonder myself if it is too soon. But before I can backtrack or change the subject, he makes his decision.

"It's not just crush," he say, his eyes trained on mine. "I love you, Katniss Everdeen. I always have and I always will." His words melt away the confusion. This was the point of returning, here. My reply is simple. Not as eloquent or beautiful as his, but just as honest.

"I love you." I hope it is enough for Snow. After all, it is true. When he kisses me, I don't let it last long. I am afraid of what I'll do otherwise. I lay back again, ready for sleep, but he boldly continues.

"One day, I am going to marry you in the town center, with both our families there. And we will be the happiest people in Panem." My heart swells and even if this is too much, too far, I don't care. This may be all wrong coming from the mouth of a sixteen-year-old boy, but then again, this is Peeta. He has always been so sure of his feelings, his affects, and his wants. The dream he has laid out is just as glorious the second time.

"_Okay,"_ I manage.

"_You'll allow it?"_ He chuckles.

"Yes," I say, and I drift off to sleep then. My dreams pull me back to the meadow. The grass is a deep green and tall. It blows with a summer wind and I call to someone over its gentle rhythm. I see the light sway of her dark curls first. Then, as she approaches me, her small fingers stretch out to take mine. I find the brilliant light blue eyes. We smile at one another and I am swept with peace and joy. Until her hand finds mine and I feel a sudden sharp tug. The pressure is almost painful...

"Katniss! We have to go NOW!" Peeta pulls me to my feet frantically before my eyes even open. Once I'm up right, his tight grip on my hand releases to throw a bag over my back and secure it. He straps the other to his back and pulls me from the cave. We stumble terribly, him with his injured leg and me still half asleep. We are almost past the rocks when our actions start to register. Something is forcing us to move early. I can't decide what yet, but I turn sharply back to the cave.

"Peeta, you forgot the armor," I shout.

"No," he says firmly "there's no time." He tightens his grip on me and we move to the muddy ground of what use to be the stream. I obey his commands, hearing the urgency in his voice. We struggle in the wet ground. The other side of the stream is not much improvement. The rain has made the ground soft everywhere. This will slow us greatly. Peeta is still in the lead. I am surprised by his speed. Finally, I am alert enough to focus on my senses. I need to understand what has Peeta in such haste.

The first thing I notice is the air around us, and I cough almost at once. Smoke is billowing towards us and woods are too bright for this time of night. I can hear the sound of explosions in the distance. The Gamemakers have started the blaze again. I don't think the fire will come this far, but we need to get free from the smoke quickly. I pick up my own pace and we move close to what had been the stream. We pass the site of Clove's attack and make it to where the trees and underbrush start to thin, before I make Peeta pause. We both are struggling to breathe, but Peeta's limp is worsening. I worry if he doesn't get air soon, he'll fall. I pull us both down below the smoke and wait for my own coughing to stop. Through our ragged breathing, I hear Foxface scream nearby. It's blood curdling, one of true horror. Peeta doesn't hesitate, he grabs me and we run. He is ahead of me again. I can see the lake and the Cornucopia. We are just about to shed the last of the trees when the world erupts in sound.

There is a rumble of many feet surging forward. The mutts. They howl and, for an instant, I can tell one is far ahead of the others, much too close to us. We make it to the plain and I spare a single glance back, out of fear. My hand is ripped from Peeta's and I am thrown to the ground. I catch Clove's dark eyes as a large muddy claw stabs into my left shoulder, her large fangs bared at me in a growl. I scream in pain, but wiggle a knife free from my belt and shove hard toward the mutt's abdomen. She makes the sound of an actual wounded animal and tenses back. Peeta grabs me and I struggle to my feet again. She recoils without warning and I can hear the same dirty claw dig into Peeta's side. He swipes at her with his own knife and it lodges in one of her fierce eyes. We are both spurred on by adrenaline and we make it to the Cornucopia in what feels like seconds. Peeta pushes me roughly up the side first and then joins me. I am only starting to feel the sharp pain of my wound, but I don't stop. I breathe only when we are at the peak of the structure, safe from the mutts. I collapse and bring my hand up to my shoulder.

I feel the warm surge of blood there before Peeta is on me. He pulls my hand away and unzips my jacket. I feel him take my backpack, along with my bow. He rips the top my shirt away and pours a whole bottle of water over it. I look over to see the sickly site of mud and blood running down my arm and chest. Peeta tries, in vain, to use the tape to seal it, but the blood is coming too fast, it won't stick. He quickly sheds his own jacket and shirt. He folds his top several times and pushes it against the flow of blood. That's when I see his condition. There are four long cuts along the left side of his body. The blood is trickling down covering his pants in a coat of red. The horror is clear on my face. He looks to me, and then himself. He pales.

"I'm fine. We are both going to be fine," he says, as if trying to convince himself. I'm not buying it. I struggle to get up. To aid him in some way, but I am distracted by a shift in his focus. He is staring back at the woods and when I turn, I see her too. Foxface, panting and half blacking with smoke and burns, is just outrunning the mutt pack. Peeta thrusts the bow and an arrow towards me.

"Can you shot still?" his voice sounds weak, he looks so pale. This steadies me. I bring myself up to my knees, facing the forest and load the bow. Without further thought, ignoring the constant protest of my arm, I send my arrow right into her heart. I don't pause to watch it hit. I have never been so sure of my aim. I round on Peeta, my hands fluttering uselessly over his abdomen. I have to stop the bleeding, but a tourniquet won't work here. I hear the cannon, but still don't pause. 'The tape,' I think, 'I need the tape.' I hear Claudius Templesmith's voice echo out, but ignore him. I refuse to hear their sly rule change now. Peeta has no time for the berries. My hand finds the tape, but I am shaking so hard I can't unravel it. Peeta is shouting my name and finally I allow myself to listen.

"KATNISS...Katniss it's over. We won!" He shouts and as if to save more time on explanation, the hovercraft appears right over the Cornucopia and Claudius' voice echoes out.

"Once again, Lady's and Gentleman, I give you this year's winners of the seventy-fourth hunger games: Miss Katniss Everdeen and Mister Peeta Mellark of District 12!" I don't know what to make of it, but I allow Peeta to stand and hold me. Someone else is pulling us away and I suddenly find us in the craft, but still conjoined. People are trying to calm us and explain what will happen now. I don't speak, don't react until they pull Peeta from me. He slumps onto a gurney and his eyes slide shut. My reaction is instantaneous and animalistic. I throw myself at him, pounding my hands at the glass suddenly dividing us. I can't find words for my overwhelming fear, so I just scream his name over and over. I struggle, not with the barrier, but my own physical condition. I notice my own blood pooled at my feet and I fall to my knees. All goes black.

Chapter 12

P POV

The pain makes it hard to breathe. The feel of the table beneath me and the band at my lap make me tense. I am caught up in a whirl of thoughts and confusion. Where am I? I am in the Capitol, I think. But this doesn't help my disorientation. A string of memories assault me and I am overwhelmed with fear. My mind is foggy with sedative and painkillers. I look to the white wall in front of me. Who will come in next? What will they bring with them? Will it be aid or torture? My heart accelerates, a monitor beeps and I am drawn back to sleep, all my questions unanswered.

I dream of Katniss and our meadow. She is telling me about a wish she has, to change our past. We make love in the grass by the lake and fall sleep in each other's arms. The dream ends and memories take over as I drift to wakefulness. I try to remain calm this time as I sort through the storm in my mind. I am starting to see a trend, to make sense of things, when the wall slides open. I am caught off guard and I tense again, heart speeding. I try to breathe and relax. It is only an Avox with a food tray. But, wait, not any Avox. The male servant from my first Games. And only my first Games. This is the first clue. I test my next theory as he sets the tray down. I smile in satisfaction as I am able wiggle both my feet. As the time line arranges itself, I get nervous again.

"Wait!" I try to shout in my weak voice. "How is Katniss? Sorry, I mean will she be ok?" But the Avox does not turn. I am terrified and I pull against the band at my waist. In my struggle, I knock the food tray over before they are able to push me under again.

When I wake again, I feel strangely weak. My limbs are rubbery with disuse. I wonder how long I have slept. There is a tray already in front of me and a small card sits next to it. The note is short and simple, but comes with great relief.

**Mr. Mellark,**

**Your reunion is planned with Miss Everdeen in two days. Please follow all direction regarding your health until that time.**

There is no signature, but the message is clear enough. Katniss is alive and well. I will see her soon. I need to eat and sleep as they expect me to. No more fits.

I eat the small liquid meal in front of me and then assess my state. My lower extremities are both still intact. I can't even find a scar on my leg from Cato's blade. I lift my gown and find the claw marks also well healed. Just a pink tinge of the skin gives them away. I press down on them, but there is no ache at all. In fact, other than stiffness, I feel great. I don't ponder this more, because they force me back to sleep again. I repeat my cycle several more times before I wake in my old room in the training center.

My excitement is tangible. I spring out of bed so fast, I get a little lightheaded. I regain my balance and dress quickly. I am supposed to see my team now. Yes, my team, but not Katniss. The day is early, but she is probably already in preparation for tonight. Generally, her torment in this area is much longer than mine. But that also means she has already seen Haymitch and he can confirm her wellbeing for me. This pushes me out the door and down the hall. When my eyes meet the small cluster of people, Portia runs forward to embrace me. I cling to her gratefully. I haven't seen her in years. Not since the war...

"You were so brave," she tells me. When she pulls back, despite the closeness of our ages, she looks like a proud mother. My prep team scoots in, chatting excitedly, but I turn to Haymitch. He nods at me in approval and pats my back with a firm hand.

"How is she?" I ask.

"Oh, don't worry. Our little sweetheart is just as feisty as ever," he laughs and then looks at me with a stern expression, squeezing my arm with meaning. "She was almost as difficult as you, during her hospital stay." In other words, he wants us to behave. The Capitol will not be happy with us if we continue to act like caged animals. We are Victors now; it's time to celebrate. But I am suddenly not happy at all. I feel unease. I try not to think about too much as the cameras continue to film our reunion. Haymitch doesn't say any more, but holds a plastered smile to his face. He looks exhausted, and I can only imagine why. After doing the impossible and getting two victors out alive, he has to keep his tributes in line while the doctors try to work with them. Still, I can't help but feel I am missing something.

"She's just perfect, Peeta," shrills Effie, "But there is so much to do today!"

The greetings end and I am ushered back to my room to prepare for the night. Alexandra, one of my prep team, is taking my hand to buff and polish when she speaks suddenly with excitement.

"Oh, I know we aren't supposed to speak of it, but I am so excited for the wedding," she gushes.

"The wedding?" I say, genuinely stumped. Suede, who is working on my hair, chimes in.

"Word in the Capitol is that Snow let there be two victors because he's a real softy for young love," he whispers. "Well, and of course, after you practically proposed in the cave, everyone was besides themselves."

"Wait but that wasn't a real proposal...I mean I love her, but that... I mean I don't know if it will be that soon." I look around at the fallen faces, but I think only of Katniss. She would be horrified. The goal was to change things and then get married, not get married and hope for the best.

"I'm sorry," Alexandra squeaks. "It's just, Haymitch thought it was a sure thing and I assumed..." I know what she assumed. That if Haymitch said it, it meant something. My thoughts click into place. That was the exhausted look on Haymitch's face. He has been fighting for days with the powers that be to keep us from being forced into marriage. And I know if it has come to the point that he is going along with it, there is nothing anyone can do. What had Suede just said about Snow and the Capitol? They were all in love with us and that's why we where saved. Yes, Katniss was believable enough and now Snow himself saw us as two people desperately in love. This is why they didn't take back the rule change. Snow is not mad and he doesn't want to punish us. Not yet, anyways. But we are his new celebrities, and perhaps examples of his great compassion. The idea makes me sick and angry, but I push it back. I have work to do.

"Alex," I say confidently "don't be sorry. I just mean that I have to ask her properly first. I owe that to her and our families to do it the right way." She smiles widely with pure joy.

"Oh Peeta, you just have to do it on the Victors' tour. Then we could have the wedding before the Quell. Oh, please!" she begs me. I can't help but laugh, not with humor but bitterness. Because I am sure I will be proposing on the Victors' tour and I can't Imagine Katniss will feel any better about it this time around.

"Oh, we'll see," I say, a little aloof, but wink at her. And they all smile now, breaking into excited chatter about the Games, focusing on their favorite romantic moments between Katniss and I.

I have calmed by the time Portia meets me. She doesn't speak of wedding plans, but prepares me for the stage. The suit is the same as I remember. She leaves my hair and makeup simple. Katniss is the one they want to shine. Not that she needs any of it. Portia walks me down to the holding under the stage and directs me to my platform. The show will start soon and she has to get into place as well. Before she goes, she bites her lip in thought, then leaves me with one piece of advise.

"They will ask, you know? About your future plans," she says. "Just be honest and sincere. Be yourself. They already love you." And she kisses my cheek. Be myself? If she only knew. 'I don't think they are looking for Peeta, the rebel soldier, or Peeta, the prisoner of war, tonight,' I laugh internally. No, tonight I will not be completely myself. But I can be Peeta, the baker's son who is hopelessly in love with Katniss Everdeen. That Peeta will always be part of me.

When they raise me to the stage, I am caught off guard momentarily, but the screaming crowd gives me time to collect the last of my thoughts.

"Peeta, Peeta, Peeta Mellark!" Caesar Flickerman booms at my side. "How wonderful to see you again!" We shake hands. I smile and wave for the audience.

"It's great to be here again Caesar!" I return with just as much enthusiasm. The crowd erupts again and I bow my head in thanks.

"Come sit, my dear boy! You must be tired," he teases. I sit and wait to see where he is gong with this.

"So, Peeta, you survive Cato's sword..." he starts

"Yes," I say, but before I can answer more, he continues.

"You save Katniss from Clove in the woods..."

"Yes..."

"You outran the mutts to the Cornucopia..."

"Yes?"

"And you still had the energy to try and escape the hospital wing to find Miss Everdeen?" The laughter echoes from all sides and I join in. Ah, yes, leave it to Flickerman. Thankfully, this, I can work with.

"Caesar..." I lean in towards him "You've seen that girl...how can I stay away?"

"Should we put him out of his misery and bring her out, Panem?" he shouts again. The crowd screams their encouragement. My heart skips a beat. "Here she is, folks, Miss Katniss Everdeen!" The platform rises and I am on my feet to catch her. She is radiant. All smooth, with soft curves, pink lips and cheeks. The yellow dress is more beautiful on her than I remember. I can't breath until she closes the distance and is in my arms again.

There is an urgency in her lips on mine, a longing. I never want to spend a single day away from this woman. When Caesar taps my shoulder I slap his hand away. I boldly reach down and sweep her into my arms bridal style. The crowd goes from raucous laughter to 'aws' of joy. Katniss parts her lips slightly with a gasp and grabs at my hair. Time to stop, I think unwillingly. I see Haymitch has stood to get us in our own seats, but I don't let her go. Instead I sit back on the love seat with her right in my lap. She blushes and tries to hide in my shirt, but a laughing Flickerman will not allow it.

"Oh come on, Katniss, we know you aren't that shy. Come on out." He teases. There is a pout on her face, that I am sure is not only for the cameras. We all laugh on cue, even Haymitch.

"Oh Katniss, I'm teasing. Who wouldn't be so taken by Mr. Mellark?" Caesar comforts, although I know Katniss is still mortified by the insinuation that she is too forthcoming with physical affection.

"But truly, Katniss," Caesar reaches out his hand to her but pauses to look at me. "May I?" he asks. I playfully pull her close for a minute, shielding her from sight. The audience loves it. Then I chuckle, myself, and nod to Flickerman. He takes her hand gently and holds it as he speaks.

"Katniss..."he continues, "It is wonderful to see you again. Let me just say, that you have stolen the hearts of all of Panem with your beauty and grace. You are the exact vision of what a young lady should be." He places a kiss on her fingers and awaits a reply.

"I hope my mother agrees with you." Her face is serious, it's not meant to be a joke, but the audience explodes once more.

This ends the banter for now. We just have to make it through the next few hours and then we can be alone for a little while. Tomorrow will be more difficult, for me, especially. I will have to be careful with my words. There are too many memories in my head. I realize sadly, I will have to focus on the film to make sure I get it all correct in the next interview. Perhaps she is feeling my stress, or she misses me as must as I miss her, because Katniss strokes the back of my hair soothingly the whole night.


	3. Section 3

Time does not heal all wounds. After the war Katniss struggles to move forward and embrace a new life with Peeta, but can't overcome the ghosts of her past. Will the chance to go back result in a better future or end with the same results?

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created solely for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

* * *

Chapter 13

K POV

When the anthem plays, I scramble off Peeta's lap and try to stand straight. When I see Snow, my stomach turns painfully. 'He's close enough to kill,' I think maniacally. I wonder how many peacekeepers would shot me before I could break his neck. But I am pulled from my daydream, by something much more disturbing. Snow takes my hand, like an old friend.

"Congratulations, Miss Everdeen. You have made your district and nation very proud." The smile he gives me is genuine. I swallow the vomit in my mouth and hope he takes my expression as nerves. He places the ceremonial crown on my head and moves to Peeta. I hear a similar speech and see an identical crown placed on his head. Apparently, this time we merit our own prizes, instead of sharing. Peeta is stiff, but smiles back at Snow, even managing a 'thank you, sir'. 'How dare you ever even look at Peeta,' I think. Quickly, to center myself, I find Cinna in the crowd. I tune out Snow and the anthem. Cinna smiles at me and nods. He is like a beacon of hope. 'This,' I think, 'is why I am here, to save those as precious as Cinna.' I won't let him die for me this time either. Soon, we are escorted to a car that will take us to the president's mansion for the ball. I will be given several minutes alone with Peeta. Yes, there will be listening ears, but I can at least convey to him part of what I learned this morning.

I had been in quiet shock as my nosey prep team had prodded me about my upcoming marriage. At lunch Cinna had taken me to the roof for some air and probably to get me away from the rest of the team. He let the quiet envelop us for some time before he spoke. Then, he leaned in close to me and gently asked about my feelings for Peeta.

"It's not my business, but if I understand, I can help you better." He said in a whisper. "Do you really love Peeta?" he asked, so softy even I could barely hear.

"Yes," I said clearly. Cinna looked relieved, but forged on.

"Katniss," he whispered again "I have instructions from Snow to design your wedding dresses." So it was a done deal. Whether or not I wanted to, I was going to have to marry Peeta and it would be soon. I stared into Cinna's eyes, wishing I could ask what I wanted to know. Was this punishment? How mad was Snow? But asking would not support my feelings. More so, it would let on that I knew much more than a sixteen year old from the Seam should. But he unknowingly gave me the clue I needed.

"Panem is obsessed with your love story," he tells me. And I now understand. It's the Capitol people that saved us. We are their biggest celebrities, once again. They will demand our wedding and probably children. I feel like I have whiplash.

"Will you be okay?" he says in a whisper again, taking my hand in his. I ponder this. Will I be okay marrying Peeta? I promised I would if we could change things. But things aren't different yet, not really. The rebellion could breakout at any time. All my loved ones could be dead again tomorrow, Peeta and I could be dead tomorrow. Didn't we go down this road before, the first time? The memory brings Peeta to mind, down on one knee asking for my love at the end of the Victors tour. Peeta, so sincere in his feeling, forced to beg for mine. Peeta, who got me, not by the return of my affection but by the demands of the country. How unfair I was to him then. How unfair I am being now. This was the point, I remind myself. Besides, I know what happens when you directly disobey Snow. I don't want this for us now, but there is no point in fighting. More so, I refuse to hurt Peeta again. I am not that selfish little girl anymore, the one torn by her feelings for two boys and unable to be with either. I swallow hard and tell Cinna the truth, what I have just worked out in my head.

"I'm nervous, but I do love Peeta. When he asks, I will marry him." I say with a shaky voice. I hope I sound confident to Cinna. He smiles then, as if I lifted a weight off him. I know I have. He is too good to watch me forced into marriage. He would help me stop it if I didn't want it. My choice now will protect Cinna as well.

"He is a good man, Katniss," he says at last. I just nod, because words can't describe the good that is Peeta.

Once the car door closes behind us, I turn to speak, but Peeta has other ideas. He is rough and demanding as he pulls me to him. He parts my lips with his and probes into my mouth. I moan as his hand finds my thigh. I suck on the tip of his tongue. His hand travels up.

"Peeta," I say in a rasp when our lips break for air, "I need to talk to you." He is still breathing fast and desire is heavy in his eyes, but he pulls back a little. He smoothes my hair and dress as I gain my thoughts.

"Are you okay?" he says, concerned with my apprehension. I struggle to find the words.

"I just want to tell you...that I am sure about us," I say lamely. His look tells me he doesn't understand, so I continue on more boldly.

"I want you to know that I have thought about it and…" I wish I could speak like Peeta. He is patient with me, waiting for what I need to get out, but I have to say something fast, the car is slowing.

"I know what people are saying," more like what Snow has decided, "But it's okay. I don't want it to bother you, because I'm ready." I hope he understands. I hope this makes things easier on him. I hope he believes me. The door opens then, and a peacekeeper places his hand out to me, I look back to Peeta. He expression is fierce for a moment. He wants to believe me. I smile and he softens. He nods and we allow ourselves to be swept for the car.

The evening is spent mostly with sponsors. We thank them all over and over again. Like the first time, no one can get enough of us or our kisses. I don't mind, but it doesn't help the other feelings I've been struggling with. Once and a while I catch a familiar face of another victor and I have to fight the urge to call them over. Johanna is by the buffet, Seeder is speaking with Mags, and Haymitch shares a loud drunken toast with Chaff. 'These people do not know you yet,' I tell myself. I carefully craft my expressions and avoid looking in there directions. But I am unhinged when an ugly older woman with too much makeup and perfume approaches, bringing with her Finnick Odair.

"Oh, Finny," she coos, "aren't the new Victors darling?" Her arms are wrapped around him like he is a teddy bear to squeeze.

"Not as much as you, doll," Finnick replies, his voice so fake and sugary sweet, I wonder how anyone buys it. "Shall we introduce ourselves," Finnick asks her politely. She nods as she throws back a tall glass of champagne. It trickles down her neck a little and she giggles like a fool.

"Katniss," he takes my hand briefly and I stare into his eyes. Even Peeta's beautiful artwork did not do them justice. I don't trust my voice.

"Peeta," He shakes Peeta's hand as well.

"It's nice to meet you in person, Finnick," Peeta returns. Finnick is introducing the woman, but I don't listen and I do not offer her my hand to shake.

"Oh Finny, Peeta is a handsome one, isn't he?" say the old women. Finnick looks at Peeta and his smile falters a little. "He could give you a run for your money, I think. He's so young too." She licks her lips. I feel sick again. Finnick must see this and he pulls her to him.

"Sweetheart, no one will treat you like I do," he whispers audibly. "Besides, I think this one is taken." With a smile and a nod to us, Finnick Odair ushers his date away.

"Dance with me," Peeta requests. I quickly accept and use the opportunity to bury my head in his chest. I wrap my arms protectively around him. We twirl on the dance floor, not paying attention to the pace of each song. 'There are definitely much worse things the Capitol can force on us than marriage,' I think sourly. 'I will never let the Capitol hurt Peeta again,' I vow. I want to tell him this, but it's not the right time for such statements. Instead, we continue to turn and when I see someone approach to steal the next dance, I pull Peeta closer and seal his lips to mine. The night ends and we share a ride back to the training center with a very drunk Haymitch. Peeta has to help him to the elevator, but when we reach the twelfth floor, Peeta politely asks the Avox to get him to bed.

"Your room or mine?" he says with a smirk. There is no answer. He lifts me again ceremoniously and our lips meet. I kiss him firmly and drag my mouth to his chin working toward his neck. I hear the door open and close. There is a shift under me and Peeta locks the handle. My lips part at his and he thrusts his tongue in my mouth. As I suck on it, I feel his hands slide to the back of the dress. He slowly pulls the zipper down, then pulls away to lay me on the bed. I spread my legs and he positions himself over me. The weight of him is overwhelming after so long without it. I feel vulnerable, but excited. He kisses down my neck and I feel myself shake.

"You looked so beautiful tonight," he says between kisses. "I want you so bad," he begs. I move my hands to his shirt. I unbutton it with sure fingers and toss it away. He pulls off his undershirt and runs his hand back down to my thigh. My own hands trail down his chest and I grab at his belt buckle. His hips give an involuntary thrust and his hand tightens on my thigh, pushing my legs open wide for him. I feel the moisture spread across my panties. I shake again.

"I want to touch you, Peeta," I moan. He is off the bed and removing the rest of his clothing in record time. I shed my own dress and bra before he returns. He presses his chest to mine and I enjoy the sensation on my tense nipples. I grab his soft hair and pull him against my lips again. I can feel him harden against my hip. I press my teeth to his bottom lip and glaze it with my tongue. My hands winds back down his stomach and I curl one hand around him at his base. He cups my smooth breast and squeezes. He thrusts again. I stroke him with a firm hand. I suck on the tip of his ear and tell him my next want.

"I need you inside me," I whisper. He slides off my wet panties and positions himself at my entrance. Without hesitation he pushes his full length into me. I cry out in sudden pain and push my hands against his chest. Peeta is to big and too deep for my sixteen-year-old body. He is already withdrawing himself when I speak.

"It's too much," I say. I blink away a tear as my center throbs a little. Peeta is by my side and I turn into him.

"I'm so sorry. I forgot. Katniss, I am so sorry," he pleads repeatedly

"Shh, it's ok. I'll be fine," I sooth. "It was my idea," I say, with a light laugh. Peeta doesn't see the humor. He rests his head next to mine and strokes my head. It feels nice, but this is not how I want our night to end. I don't think I will come now, but he might.

I turn my head to kiss him, running my hand down his side. When I touch him again he tries to refuse, but I won't allow him to break our kiss. He is still wet from being inside me, and I use it to my advantage as I glide up and down his hard shaft. When I think all protest has left him, I inch down the bed and take him in my mouth. I lick his head and run my tongue down his length before I suck him in. He moans my name and shudders as I press him to the back of my mouth. I can taste myself on him. I bob up and down, again and again, until he moans and thrusts once to the back of my throat. I swallow him once more.

I return to him at the top of the bed. He pulls the covers over us and wraps his arms around me. Peeta feels safe, like home. But as we drop off to sleep, I remind myself this is definitely not home. And with Snow back in our lives, we are not safe.

Chapter 14

P POV

I wake from a nightmare just before the sun rises. My bare chest is pressed against Katniss' back. It feels comforting, but I know it could easily turn embarrassing, so I slip out of the bed and pull back on my shorts and T-shirt. I drape Katniss' gown over a chair and collect both of our other discarded clothes and set them in the laundry hamper for cleaning. I shift through the drawers to find underwear and pajamas, and kneel down by Katniss next to the bed. I stroke the little hairs back from her forehead. She stirs and I kiss her awake.

"It's almost morning, so I found you some clothes before everyone starts barging in," I tell her softy, after her eyes flutter open. She dresses slowly, half conscious and returns to the bed. I should probably go to my own room, but I am not ready to leave her just yet. Instead, I join her again and try to fall back asleep.

It is Effie who comes to wake us a short while later. Her expression tells me we are not a surprise to her. I wonder how loud we were last night. She looks stern, not at all her usual bubbly self. These are not proper manners, in her book. She forces our separation, reminding us of the day's events.

When I do return to my room, it doesn't take long for my prep team to assault me. Today's topic is last night's debut of Katniss and me. They chatter excitedly about our outfits. They tell me how handsome and gentlemanly I was. They gush over our perfect stage kiss. When I don't think I can smile and nod anymore, Suede changes the subject. Once again, I am completely thrown off guard.

"Alexandra, didn't you just love the after show?" He says. I try to remember if they air the ball as well.

"God, yes! You were right about Snow. That man has a heart of gold." She replies. Are we talking about the same man? What could Snow have possibly done to bring on this kind of open admiration, even if it is from Capitol citizens? I seek clarification immediately.

"What are you talking about?" I say, a little too angrily. They look a little taken aback at my sudden outburst, but Suede elaborates. After the crowning, there was a special announcement, more mandatory viewing. President Snow himself spoke to the nation about the importance of family values. Family, he said, was 'the key to growth'. It was time we all 'did our part to strengthen our nation'. He vowed to make necessary changes and help the people of the districts of Panem develop more industry to sustain themselves. Finally, he spoke to the youth of the country, asking for their pride and support at this time of great change.

"He said aid would start in 12 and work through the poorest districts first." Suede finishes informatively. I have no idea what to say or think. A much younger Peeta would have been surprised but happy by this news. He would have thought of only the good to come. Peeta before the first Games would have thought of Katniss in the Seam and how this news could help her. This Peeta knows better. No matter what President Snow actually said to Panem, it is all a lie. It is nothing but the ideas of his personal advisors, carefully crafted to deceive the public. Snow doesn't care about families or growth. He cares about his own needs and ensuring the oppression of all on Panem. I wish more than ever to speak with Katniss openly. Does she know of this yet? What will she think? Has she already seen to the heart of his motives? Or is she just as confused as I am? 'Maybe Haymitch will have some clue,' I think with hope. Haymitch, who knew of the rebellion and District 13 long before I was even a tribute. But Haymitch will not trust us yet. If he does know, I can't guarantee he will actually divulge any information. We will have to try when we are back home. Katniss can drag something out of him, I'm sure.

I am caught in this train of thought for hours. The prep team continues their work, occasionally speculating on Presidents Snow's plans for development. Typically, they all agree District 12 should learn to manufacture either fabrics or cosmetics, both equally essential in their eyes. I pity them for their ignorance. They truly see good to come. They only know the kindness of Snow.

When I finally meet Portia, she has another surprise for me. She pulls out a small box and removes a small gold pin, which she places on the collar of my shirt. It is a Mockingjay pin, similar to the one Katniss wore in the arena. I look to Portia in terror. Was Coin trying to recruit us already? Or was this the grave mistake of Portia herself? Does she know of the rebellion? How is she involved? Will this small gesture cost her life? She doesn't see my face, because she is down at floor level trying to buff out a scuff on one of my shiny shoes.

"Portia," I say a little shaky "The pin?" is all I can think to say.

"A request of President Snow's," she says, still distracted with my shoes. "He liked Katniss's pin so much, he wanted you to match." Again, I am shocked into silence. Effie knocks at the door and I compose my face.

"Show time!" she practically squeals. Apparently, she has collected herself from this morning.

I find Katniss in the living room and take her in my arms gratefully. She feels tense. She has heard about the announcement. She doesn't try to speak to me in code. She doesn't speak at all. Caesar Flickerman is making last minute adjustments to his suit. The cameramen are lined up and ready to shoot. I guide Katniss to our seats without direction from the crew and she curls next to me for support. I stare into her worried eyes. Both her hands clutch one of my larger ones. I try to rub the stress from her neck, but she doesn't soften. I risk a few words of comfort.

"We'll be home soon," I kiss her forehead.

A man with a clipboard is calling everyone to order. Caesar joins us at the couch. He plasters on his trademark smile and turns to us. I kiss Katniss once more, trying to pull her to the present, and plaster my own smile back on. Caesar does his standard introductions and we run through some of the more violent highlights of the Games. We talk about my time with the careers and he questions Katniss on her own feelings. I am relieved when she rallies herself.

"I assumed his good looks had gotten him in with them," Katniss teases. It sounds all wrong coming from her, but Caesar laughs in appreciation and moves on. We talk about our various wounds and, after we reassure all of Panem that both Katniss and I are in perfect health, Caesar moves on to our love life. He doesn't waste time; he cuts right to the question on everyone's mind. Thankfully, I have my answer prepared.

"Now Peeta, we know you and Miss Everdeen are quite taken with each other. You have already told Panem of your future goals for her while in the cave. So let me ask, do I hear wedding bells in your future?" he questions with a cheeky smile. Katniss squeezes my hand in support. Though her words were convoluted in the car, I received the message. If our marriage has to be now, she will be ok with it. Or at least, she loves me enough this time not to make it harder on me. I stare back into her soft grey eyes as I answer.

"You make me so happy. I hope one day soon we will be married." I reply. Caesar makes an audible sniffle and wipes his eyes.

"Katniss, did you ever think when you entered the arena, you would walk out with the love of your life?" Flickerman practically coos. We are still caught in each other's eyes. I see the wheels of her mind turn as she decides something. Then she turns to the camera and speaks with a steady voice.

"I would have never dreamt it Caesar. I have never seen such generosity in my life. I am so happy and proud to live in a world were love can survive. We owe so much to the Capitol," she finishes boldly. I bite the side of my mouth to stop from showing my true reaction. 'Wasn't I supposed to drop the bombs at the interview,' I think. She turns back to me with a fierceness in her eyes. She wants me to follow, to trust her. But what was she doing? Glorifying the Capitol? Singing Snow's praises? I hope I look love sick, instead of confused.

Caesar rambles off some of the generous support we where given, including the medicine and fancy dinner in the cave. Katniss assures him that the lamb stew was just as wonderful as she remembered. I give a heart-felt thank you to our sponsors for all their support and he begins his wrap up of the program.

"Katniss, Peeta, we shall meet again for the Victors tour, but until then, all of Panem will have you in their hearts!" Flickerman ends shaking each of our hands and waves at the camera. We smile and follow suit.

We rise to leave. It's time to collect our belongings and head to the train. The relief is tangible in the air. Haymitch meets us at the door.

"Sit back down, you two," he says sternly "You'll have one more visitor." We comply without question, because we are to emotionally drained to question. Haymitch doesn't offer anything else and leaves us. It takes a few minutes for the crews to collect themselves, despite the quickness of their pace. One man looks almost frantic as he tries to collapse the stand for his camera and exit the room. We sit stiffly, our hands clutched together between us and wait as patiently as we are able. I am beyond ready to leave the Capitol behind. I can't take too much more today. My head is pounding. I can't fathom what is to come next, but I think at this point, President Snow could walk in and it wouldn't surprise me. I'm wrong.

His reappearance, here in this casual setting, alone with Katniss and I, is unnerving. I feel myself tremble at the sight of him. Everything about him draws me back into my deepest, darkest nightmares. His full lips twisted into a sinister smile as he orders peacekeepers on to me. The slow gait he takes to approach me, like he is hunting his prey. His evil eyes staring into my soul, trying to bend me to his will. The lies he spoke to me, delivered with the stench of his breathe. I have to push it all way. I have to focus myself. I reach my free hand across my lap and place it over Katniss' and my already linked fingers.

He watches us with a smile and sits across from us, where Flickerman had been. His gesture would be calming if I didn't know his true nature. He doesn't pause more; he must take our silence as nerves. You could say that, I think dryly.

"Mister Mellark, Miss Everdeen, I am sorry to delay your departure, but I must leave shortly myself, so I won't take much more of your time," he says politely, as if we have a say in the matter. As if he doesn't know how completely he already owns us. He must see the fear in us, because he adds, "Please be reassured that I come with well wishes." Although, I can't imagine Snow wishes any good for us.

"As I am sure you have heard by now, you have somewhat captured the attention of our nation," he continues. "I may be so bold to say that you have brought about a certain hope in the youth of this country. A group that has recently reached such a low level of moral." He pauses then. Was it a rhetorical comment? Or does he want participation? I quickly decide it is the latter.

"Thank you, sir." I say simply, but then remember Katniss' earlier statements. "We never sought out this kind of attention, but we are proud to help our nation," I add. Snow looks pleased with my answer.

"That, my boy, is just what I came to speak with you both about. If I may speak candidly..." he starts, but does allow time for response, "Panem is in great need. Just yesterday, I spoke with the rest of this nation on the same matter, but they are not privy to what I want to say to you. You will see the same broadcast later tonight, after your interview, so you will know what I have said to the country. What I want you to know is that the growth of this nation is insufficient at this time. The youth of our districts are stunted by situation and do not move into adulthood as they should. Our population is dwindling. This must change if Panem is to survive." He pauses again, perhaps for questions, but we don't need him to elaborate. We know what he means about 'youth not moving into adulthood'. They die of hunger or refuse to marry and have children. There is nothing for them to achieve, to grow into. Katniss' voice surprises me.

"Surely the Capitol can do something?" she says with an air of innocence. I see a spark of annoyance in Snow. I want to laugh; he can't hide his evil for even a whole conversation. He is composed in an instant and continues.

"That, Miss Everdeen, is where I need you." He stands then, and uses that slow, disturbing gait to approach Katniss. I tighten my grip on her hand until I am sure both our fingers are blue. She doesn't protest, but there is a small gasp when the President reaches down to lay a finger on her Mockingjay pin.

"I don't believe you will know this, you are too young, but the Mockingjay is, in a way, the combination of the Capitol and the districts. When watching you in the Games, I enjoyed the symbolism of this particular element of your situation. The two of you brought the wants and wishes of the Capitol and the districts together. As you can imagine, that does not happen very often. In a way, you are our Mockingjays." He turns his back to us for a moment and paces, before speaking again. "That is how I wish you to continue. This nation's youth need direction. You will be this direction. I want you to serve as an example. Young love, marriage, children…you will show the people the joys of all of these. And you will do so with the vision of a future Panem in mind. Do you understand what I am asking of you? What you nation needs from you?" he finishes. I wonder again if this requires an answer.

"Yes," Katniss says. Snow turns his head to me.

"Yes," I echo.

"Very good. Very good, indeed. I think we will be able to help one another. I do look forward to seeing you both again at the Victors tour, I hear there will be an announcement to celebrate then." He takes a step to go, but turns back to gaze at Katniss. I see his carefully crafted facade shatter, and he is the monster again, bending our wills to demand his way. "Two more pieces of business, and then I really must leave. It would not be a good example to the nation for one of my Mockingjays to break the law. Such behavior reflects poorly on one's whole family. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Everdeen?" Katniss nods in assent. His cold eyes turn to me.

"Furthermore, there is an acceptable sequence of events for those young and in love. Many people, including some in the Capitol, have very, shall we say, traditional outlooks on things. I doubt they will question Miss Everdeen's purity before marriage, but we wouldn't want them to have any surprises in this area. Whatever you do or don't do in your free time is none of my concern, but I will not tolerate you tarnishing your appearance with any...accidents. Do you understand, Mister Mellark?" This conversation would be a thousand times more awkward if I didn't find the man in front of me so repellant. I rally myself to speak.

"I would never dishonor Katniss in such a way," I say sincerely

"Good boy. If either of you need any further instruction on our arrangement, your mentor will be able to guide you. He is fully briefed on the situation. I wish you both a safe trip back to 12." And he leaves us both speechless.

Chapter 15

K POV

Once we board the train, the attendant politely notifies us that dinner is served and attempts to show us to the dining room.

"We know where it is, damn it!" Haymitch shouts at the man. Effie looks appalled, but only grinds her teeth in annoyance. We follow in his wake as he stomps to the next room. Peeta and I claim our seats, side by side. Effie sits at the end of the long table. Haymitch stops at the wet bar, but doesn't pour a drink. He examines the array of options and chooses a large expensive looking bottle filled with thick, dark, amber colored liquid. When he reaches his own seat, he pops the top free and takes back a long pull of it. He is going to drink himself into a stupor until Peeta or an attendant has to take him to bed. He's not going to answer a single one of the million questions still floating around my head. I glare at him in anger.

"Having a bad day, Haymitch?" Peeta says, the sarcasm thick in his voice. I guess I'm not the only one who knows how this night will unfold. Haymitch drops the bottle down to the table and mockingly smiles at us. Effie looks up nervously.

"Oh, let's just say it wasn't as nice as yours, my little Mockingjays," Haymitch answers. My anger reaches its breaking point. How dare he call me that. How dare he throw that back in my face. I will take it from Snow to protect my family and Peeta, but I will not hear it from him. I may be forced to do what the Capitol says, but I will never be their Mockingjay. The words spew forward before I can stop them.

"I'm sorry, Haymitch, has it been too long since you last drink? Or did you have an upsetting conversation with President Snow today?" I roar at him. I find myself standing. Peeta puts a hand on my arm in restraint.

"Katniss, these are not things to say to your mentor, even after becoming a Victor," Effie scolds. Haymitch breaks into laughter.

"Oh, there you are sweetheart, the feisty girl I knew. The one with more spunk than the Capitol. Are you still in there? Because from where I am standing... Boy oh boy did they break you fast, little girl." I falter for a moment as he taunts me. No, I will never belong to the Capitol. I slowly shake my head.

"Shut up, Haymitch, you should understand better than anyone. We need you on our side, not tearing us down," Peeta defends me.

"Now I think we all..." Effie starts. Haymitch brings his hand down hard on the table, sending Effie jumping and Peeta to his feet beside me.

"That's right, son! I forgot. We are all a team to the end!" He scoops up the bottle again and fills two empty wine glasses in front of us. As my anger floods back, I grab one glass. I shove the other roughly into Peeta's hand and clink them, as if in toast, then raise my own drink toward Haymitch. If he wants to mourn his bad day and drink away his sorrows, why can't we? Haymitch didn't have to sit through an uncomfortable lecture from President Snow about family planning and purity before marriage. Haymitch didn't just have his life planned out for him. Haymitch didn't have to hear his family's lives threatened.

"To our fearless and level headed mentor!" I say. He smiles back at me, but there is no more humor in his eyes. His look is full of pity now. Peeta surprises me by taking several large gulps of the liquor. He sits back down at the table and asks a scared looking Effie to pass the rolls. Haymitch and I are stuck in a staring contest. Finally, I look to my glass, still in the air. I bring it to my lips and take a long drink. I swallow fast but the liquid burns down my throat. I can't stop a cough as I sit down to join the meal again. Haymitch is still watching me now, but he doesn't laugh at my poor attempt to drink. He wants to say more, perhaps ask more, but instead he refills Peeta and my glasses before taking a drink again himself. I feel as if we have come to a silent understanding. The Capitol has not broken me and he now knows it.

The meal finishes without more incidences and Effie finds herself again in time to push us all into the TV room for the airing of our last interview. The liquor follows us to the next room, and I can't help but laugh at the three drunken Victors of District 12. What an example I was already.

I mostly ignore the screen. The booze has started to affect me and I have difficulty taking my hands or eyes away from Peeta's hair. I twirl the blonde curls again and again through my fingers. He doesn't seem to mind. When he finishes the glass in front of him, which I am sure he will regret tomorrow, he lays his head against my lap. Peeta, with his fair skin and boyish face, will never have the constitution to really be a drinker. I don't judge him; neither will I. The alcohol that seems to sooth Haymitch so greatly, usually has the opposite effect on me. Normally a drink or two is all it takes to painfully summon every ghost of my past. And then I can recall the last moments of their lives with precision. This is not the case in this world, I realize, a little smug. They are not ghosts yet; they are with me in the present, for now. That is where I will keep them. Effie sees our state of apathy and complains to Haymitch that we are much too young to drink the heavy liquor he supplied us with.

"Not anymore," he replies. I agree. When you are forced to kill other children in hand to hand combat and are about to be forced into marriage at my age, I think you can get away with a little drinking if you want to.

When I do catch the screen periodically, I see what Haymitch had seen, or assumed, anyways. As Peeta and I sit with Caesar, answering his questions and laughing at his banter, we are the Capitol's Mockingjays through and through. Our happy words and endless appreciation to Panem leave no room for doubt. Again, I start to wonder what the people back home will think. No anyone will question Peeta. Not that they don't know the true goodness of him or his resilience against evil, even this young. More so, they know how hopeful he can be. I know my Peeta would never buy into the things he says on the screen. But I have a feeling my boy with the bread, before he was my love, before the war, would have at least hoped what he was saying could be true. My mother, Prim, Gale... what will they think of the robot I have become? Will they think I have changed so greatly I could feel all those things? Will they hate who I have become? 'No, of course not,' I think. When I returned the first time, they were cautious in front of the cameras; they had their own parts to act out. But when the film crews left, I was Katniss again. They didn't question my intentions in the Games. They knew it was all to survive. In fact, they didn't believe any of it, including my relationship with Peeta. After watching us kiss again and again on screen and in person, no one was even surprised when I was completely ignoring the boy a week later. This will be the challenge once again, I think sadly. I won't have to prove my contempt of the Capitol to anyone, but I will have to convince them of our love.

I am pulled from my thoughts when the program ends. I wake a lightly snoring Peeta and focus all my hazy attention onto the television. Snow will speak now. The anthem plays in the background as a simple message appears on the screen. It is the generic language that accompanies all mandatory viewing, telling Panem we are expected to witness the following show or announcement. Refusing to do so, if discovered by law enforcement, is a punishable offense. These words precede the nightly recaps during all the Hunger Games. The music fades and the screen shifts to a simple view of President Snow sitting at a large, official looking desk, the nation's flag draped in the background. The colors he wears are more muted than I regularly see him in, soft grey and creams, instead of brilliant crisp white collar with a black suit. Even his usual rose, pinned at his pocket is a gentle pink. It reminds me of the vases full of flowers in our interview. His whole persona is intent on putting us all at ease. What had he said to Peeta and I earlier, 'Please be reassured that I come with well wishes', that was the same thing he was trying to convey to the nation. He wasn't fooling me, then or now. He smiles in greeting and begins his monologue.

"I am pleased to join you tonight, after the close of such an influential Hunger Games. In the wake of such joy brought to us by two Victors, I wish to speak to you as a nation. Family has always been the greatest hope and power of our society. Families hold us together in times of joy and sorrow, and they are the key to growth. Our nation has healed much since the dark days of the rebellion, but it's time to move forward. It is our duty to our nation. We must all do our part to strengthen Panem. I will start this commitment to growth through several programs in the months to come. They will focus on the districts, to build their economies and in turn, build our greatest asset: families. Starting in District 12, home of our new Victors and working through the districts most stricken with poverty, we will aid the people by developing new industry. I want to now turn to our youth. You are blessed with the will and power to make the greatest change. The success or failure of this growth lies on you. I ask, more than ever, for your pride and support as we work together to bring about a new Panem." He nods to the camera and wishes all a good night. The screen goes blank.

Haymitch is looking at me again, gauging my response to the propaganda just thrown at us. We both see something more in Snow's words and actions. We both know we are not working to a 'new Panem'. It will be the same oppressed Panem with a paint job. In time, the paint will crack and peel away, leaving things the same. I know these changes will bring no long-term good. I know they are not for the people's benefit. What I don't know is, why the elaborate facade? Why is Snow willing to pour so much time and money into the districts all of a sudden? Is there any truth in his words from earlier today? Is the population suffering? If it is, I can't imagine the President cares too much, unless if is affecting the Capitol. Perhaps that is the issue. They are killing us off so fast and young, that we are not able to manufacture their precious goods. With the Capitols glamorous lifestyles at stake, President Snow must do what he detests most. He must help the weakest people he rules over. I am too uncensored by the alcohol and I speak freely for the first time.

"I wonder what supplies the Capitol needs us to produce?" I say bluntly. The whole room looks surprised. Peeta is pensive at my side. Effie begins to speak of how generous it is for the Capitol help, but I wait for Haymitch's answer. He looks a little taken aback, but the smile at his lips is real. 'You missed my spunk, well here it is,' I think.

"I think the Capitol needs..." Haymitch slowly draws out his answer, choosing each word carefully. I wait out his pause gripping the couch cushion for support. "Exactly what President Snow asked of you today." There is a flicker of knowing in his eyes. I don't have time to make sense of his words or actions before he changes tact.

"Which I think we missed discussing at dinner," his tone is businesslike, formal. It would be more convincing if he wasn't slurring a little from the drink. But still, he is covering for my slip. I am grateful. We can't speak anymore of the underlying plans of Snow, but I feel a shift in alliances. Haymitch does understand more and, in time, so will Peeta and I. We are a team after all, even in this world. Effie is excited by the change of topic. This, it appears is something she has also been 'briefed' on, though I wonder if they told her as much as Haymitch.

"Yes," Effie say, as if she is directing a boardroom, instead of three drunks. "We will all have a very busy year. The months before the Victors tour will be occupied by several events to celebrate the improvements. Of course, at those times, you will be expected to speak to the media. Panem will want to see you two together and everyone is just so excited for all this progress." She catches her breath and forges on.

"I have been asked to continue in an official capacity as your chaperone and coordinator during this time. I have little information now about dates and venues, but I will update you when word comes from President Snow's secretary. It is of the utmost importance that you take my calls and are prepared for the press at almost any time. Snow was pleased with the work of your designers and has decided they will also follow your progress to ensure you look your best. You should expect several packages and calls from Cinna and Portia, as well. Finally," she looks suddenly a little morose. Surprising as she just announced her biggest promotion yet. "Haymitch will also follow your progress and be able to answer any questions you have...of a personal nature." She turns to Haymitch and nods encouragingly. I wonder if she forced him to practice this tag team speech. It would certainly explain his mood.

"That's right, children. I, as your mentor and co-Victor, am here to answer all your personal question. Peeta, is there anything you would like me to clarify for you? Perhaps a term or reference, in regards to this arrangement, that you may not understand?" he smiles widely

"No, I think Snow covered the sex talk pretty well for you," Peeta snaps. It is these words that break me. I fall into a fit of laughter. The look on Peeta's face is too much to bear. My poor, sweet, chivalrous Peeta, put through the ringer as a sexual deviant, a thief of my purity. The idea is so ridiculous, it bring tears to my eyes. I think of last night and so many others, times I have willing forced myself onto to him, offering services he would never request himself; after years of lovemaking, his sustained reluctance for me to put my mouth anywhere other than his lips. The look on his face is so unfathomable, that both Haymitch and Effie join my laughter. Peeta looks to me with betrayal and for a moment, I quiet with guilt. 'I am on your side,' I think. I run my hand down his cheek to smooth out his brow and plant a gentle kiss on his lips. He calms enough to finds the humor in the situation and it takes a long time for all the giggles in the room to die out.

Soon, Effie is ushering us to our rooms for the night. After brief instructions for the following day, she leaves for her own compartment. I grab for Peeta's hand as we reach my room, but Haymitch, who I hadn't noticed following us, clears his throat loudly.

"I think it's better to sleep in our own beds tonight," he says. His voice is full of implications and he stares at me in warning. I can almost hear him say 'don't push it, sweetheart.' I reluctantly drop Peeta's hand. We have been drinking and are more swayed by hormones lately. Just last night I forgot I was a virgin in my haste to have Peeta. Could I forget Snow's warning if things escalated too quickly? It seems unlikely for me to forget a death threat, but I decide not to test it. I kiss Peeta goodnight and leave him in the hallway with Haymitch. Before the door closes, Haymitch speaks.

"Come have a talk with me boy." And I hear their steps back towards the living room. I undress and drink three full glasses of water from the bathroom tap. I hope it will fight off the sickness in the morning. As I lay in bed, I wonder what Peeta and Haymitch are talking about. I add it to the lengthening list of things I don't know, things bouncing around my crowded head already. This, at least, I know I will have an answer for. Peeta will tell me in the morning, no matter what it is. The morning will also bring the end of our journey home. Then I will see Prim and District 12, both happy and whole. I let this image take me to sleep.

Chapter 16

P POV

I am unsteady on my feet as I follow Haymitch out of the hallway. I stagger into a wall as I feel the deceleration of the train.

"Perfect timing," Haymitch says under his breath. He rounds on me and pulls my arms roughly. "You look like you are going to be sick. You need some air," he says louder. The helpful attendant from this afternoon overhears him and opens a side door. He explains we are only stopping for gas, but can't get out more as Haymitch waves him off.

"We'll be back soon. We can handle ourselves out here," he says dismissively. The man doesn't say more, but leaves the door wide open. Light from the carriage is spilling out on the woods before us. It's a familiar kind of forest. We are close to home. Haymitch staggers in the lead, taking us just past the last car, but no further. Snide comments and humor aside, he speaks with concern.

"Do you both understand Snow's instructions?" he says sincerely

"Yes," I reply. I wonder internally why I am standing out here, instead of Katniss. I was usually the one being sent to bed. Katniss and Haymitch had similar minds. They saw things the rest of us did not. Surely Haymitch knew this already. Their thinking was aligned by the end of the first Games.

"Then you must also understand what is at stake," he follows.

"Our lives, your life, our families..." I list off. He is stunned for a second. Was I supposed to not realize this? Would a younger Peeta be naive to the threats Snow handed us? I worry I may have been just that innocent, but Haymitch collects himself from his surprise. He is thoughtful for a moment. He makes his decision and continues.

"You know there is more to this, don't you?" It is a question and a statement. I phrase my own words carefully, not to betray myself again.

"Katniss and I know Snow doesn't care about us or District Twelve," I answer.

"Smart man," he says "all will reveal itself to us in time, but 'til then, do you really understand what is expected of you?"

"Do what Snow says," I say lamely.

"Unfortunately, yes. You marry that girl fast and you become the model family for Panem. Don't resist, no matter how either of you feel about any of it. There is more happening here than you could ever fathom. I can't say more now. And don't either one of you come back to question me. I'll tell you what I know when the time is right," he says, then adds, "Just do your part and we may all make it out alive." I was going to have a hard time repeating this to Katniss. A harder time convincing her to not talk to Haymitch directly. Again, I wonder why I am the one out here with him.

"Why are you telling me and not her?" I ask the question on my mind. He looks surprised again.

"Did I misjudge what's going on? I thought you both were of the same mind now. If you two are just for show, tell me now so I can plan my funeral. That girl is a terrible actress and Snow won't take being made a fool," Haymitch drills me.

"No, it's real. I mean, we do love each other. That part wasn't a show. We have mixed feelings about the rest, but Katniss understands. We can do it." I reassure him. "I just thought you'd speak with her. You two usually understand each other when it comes to this sort of thing."

"She has stepped far enough out of line for one night with her question. I didn't want to encourage any more of that behavior," he says. "Besides I needed to give you these," he hands me something from his pocket. "Use them wisely. By the end of the week, Snow will have all birth control pulled off the market." He doesn't elaborate more as he turns back to reenter the train car. I look down to find half a dozen condoms in my hand. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I don't know what Snow hopes to gain with his new ban, but it will ensure one result. Six months without sex and we will be begging Snow to let us get married.

Inside the train again, I notice the attendant waiting for me. He is tucked to the side by the door, in a way that suggests he was trying to listen. It seems likely. I'm sure every Capitol employee is trained to listen to conversations, pick apart their meaning and report back to those in command. I am thankful for Haymitch's good sense in this area. His wisdom not to say too much or allow us to know certain details is frustrating, but I have come to respect his judgment in this area. I recall Katniss and I during and after the Quell. Katniss would never agree it was better to leave us out, and I wouldn't openly oppose her on such a loaded topic, but I know her poor ability to lie at that age would have gotten us all killed. Furthermore, I was witness in the Capitol to torture of those involved more directly in the rebellion. Yes, my own torture stole my mind, but I don't know if I would have physically survived what Johanna Mason went through. The recollection makes my stomach turn.

In minutes, I find myself in the bathroom, vomiting. I purged until my stomach was completely empty, and rest my head against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat, thankful that I was the only person to use this bathroom. The room spun slightly and I consider sleeping in this very spot. I wonder what Effie's expression would look like in the morning. I finally collect myself enough to rise and brush my teeth. They feel like chalk, my dry lips starting to chap. After I have brushed until all I can taste is mint, I sit against the wall and try to sip water. I am lost in my task, coordinating my shaky hands to hold the glass, when I hear her scream. I am startled, as I always am at any sign of her discomfort, but I am not afraid for her safety. This is not a scream of physical pain or the shout of being snuck up on. This is Katniss' nighttime scream; the long, pain filled echo of a nightmare, a dream too vivid and horrible to stay inside her mind. I gain my feet and go to find her.

The door opens with the turn of the knob, gracefully unlocked. When I enter, still weak on my legs, my eyes take a minute to adjust. Then I see her in the middle of the large bed, curled in upon herself, long dark hair draped down her back and around her shoulders. Her thin arms wrapped tight around her long, bent legs. Her face tucked into her knees. She is rocking silently and does not respond to my very noisy entrance. In times like these she always looks so fragile to me, as if a forceful wind could take her away. This is the version of herself she would never let other people see. I gently unwrap her stiff position and hold her on my lap, encompassing as much of her as I can. If I can tuck her close enough, she can't blow away from me.

"Tell me about it," I say after some time, as I rub her back.

"They were all burning. All of District 12. We pull up to the station, but everything was already fire and ash." Her voice is dry and flat. I pull her harder into my chest, she doesn't protest.

"No, love, you'll see. They will all be there, whole and well, waiting for us." I feel her shake as if in protest. "I promise, Prim will be there, so eager to see you that your mother has to hold her back. The woods, the bakery, town square, even the Seam, will all be there tomorrow. You just have a few more hours and we won't have to dream anymore or try to remember, it will all be laid out before us." I suddenly yearn so badly for all these things, I am thankful Katniss is with me to hold onto.

"I'm so scared of losing it all, Peeta," she replies

"I know, so am I, but we have each other. Like Haymitch says, we are a team to the end, remember?" I try to smile, to lighten the mood, but my statement has a different affect.

"What did Haymitch want to talk about?" She asks. I think over how to respond without giving too much to prying ears, and end up giving her the easy response.

"Mostly another sex talk," I laugh at part of the memory and add, "I'll have to tell you the rest later." With her face securely to my chest, I can feel the tiniest shift for what must be a scowl. I want to laugh again, but bite my tongue. Katniss must agree with my earlier sentiment. She was upset and confused as to why Haymitch chose to speak to me and not her. She always was the favorite, if Haymitch could like anyone enough to call it that.

"Peeta, you reek of liquor," she says a minute later.

"I know, I'm sorry. I can go back to my room," I offer, but she grips my shirt in her fist.

"Don't go," she pleads. I am relieved. Now that I am here, I feel my eyes getting heavy. With Katniss in my arms, I will be able to sleep. Haymitch might be annoyed in the morning, but there is nothing going on tonight to worry him. I strip off my t-shirt, hoping the smell goes with it, even though I am sure it is seeping through my pores. I feel her shift back towards me and the rest drifts away.

In the morning, I feel awful. I'm not necessarily hung over—my body did a good job of ridding me of the alcohol last night—more sleep deprived and dehydrated. Katniss gets a glass of water to me before Effie insists I return to my own room. She doesn't seem upset about our manners today, and I wonder how she is so intuitive to know nothing happened. I hope it's just a guess of hers. We have too many people watching us as it is.

I spend I long time in the shower, scrubbing my skin raw, then more time on my teeth again. I try to take some time on my hair and even check my nails. It's not for my prep team or Snow, it's for my family and future in-laws. Their acceptance of me and this coming situation will make our lives so much easier. Drinking last night, before such an important day, was a mistake. I hope I don't look as sick as I still feel. I must have achieved my goal, because Katniss looks relieved when I reach breakfast and Effie gives me a nod of approval. Haymitch ignores us all, nursing his favorite hang over remedy, white liquor in his morning coffee. In fact, we are a very sedate group in general, today. All caught in our own worlds, anticipating the day's events, and probably events of months to come. Effie talks briefly of our arrival and the celebration in the town square. The following day, after we each are moved into our new homes in Victors Village, we will attend a dinner at the mayor's house with our families. The train only stops once for gas, but Katniss is dressing and we miss our opportunity to exit and share words. I am thankful, because I still haven't decided the best way to explain the situation without her doing exactly what Haymitch said not to.

We are slowing to the station when she appears again. She is breathtaking as usual, but it's not in the Capitol way. She wears a blue dress that flutters above her knees, her hair in its usual plait, but is pulled forward over one shoulder. Her face is clean of cosmetics, making her look refreshed. Her eyes are alight with excitement and tension. We stand hand and hand at the door of the train, our large suitcases resting beside us, filled with our clothes from home, as well as those brought from the Capitol. Mine carries the bonus of Haymitch's gift. When the train stops, I feel Katniss step forward, but Effie pushes us aside, insisting on formal introductions. 'As if they don't know who we are,' I think. I roll my eyes to Katniss and she returns a shaky laugh.

"Welcome again, citizens of District 12," Effie shouts, even though she is the visitor here. "I would like to invite you all to today's celebration, held in the city square. The Capitol hopes you will enjoy the festivities, but also requests your presence for an announcement by Mayor Undersee later today. Now, without further ado, ladies and gentleman, I am proud to present your very own Victors of the Seventy-Forth Hunger Games: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark." She barely finishes before I find myself out on the platform with Katniss. The sound and chaos is overwhelming. The Capitol couldn't hold a candle to the exuberance of the crowd in front of us. We wave and smile, but my eyes seek our families out. They are positioned prominently in the center of the crowd. This is for the sake of the cameras trained on them, more than for us. Katniss must have found them as well because, manners and appearances forgotten, I am suddenly being dragged through the throng of waiting people.


	4. Section 4

Time does not heal all wounds. After the war Katniss struggles to move forward and embrace a new life with Peeta, but can't overcome the ghosts of her past. Will the chance to go back result in a better future or end with the same results?

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created solely for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

To those already enjoying this story, I recently had to combine chapters because of formatting restrictions on the website. The story line is the same, but **please check the end of each section for new updates**. Also, thank you to all those who have commented. It is encouraging and helpful to hear what you think. I have a long plot line already laid out, but I would love your input on what you want to see happen and what you think of it so far.

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW**

Chapter 17

K POV

Prim is there, just as Peeta had promised me. I yank him from the platform and rush into the crowded station to get to her. She looks like a little angel, better than I could ever remember her. I drop Peeta's hand when I reach her and fling my arms out to her. I kiss both her beautiful cheeks twice and hold her to me.

"I knew you could win Katniss. I always knew." She sobs, tears of joy running down her small face. She looks so young, her hair done up in bows and wearing a matching soft, new lavender dress. She looks healthy too. Which comes at such a great relief. I surprise myself when I reach a hand out to my mother. She eagerly complies and pulls us both to her. In this moment I am so grateful to have her here. So proud of the hard work she must have done while I was away. I didn't appreciate the good care she had taken of Prim during my first games. In my true youth, I had always resented her so much for her failures. Those feelings would never fully leave me, but surviving through great loss myself, I better understand the struggles of this woman. I could now comprehend just how much it must have taken her to do such an excellent job, even with help from Gale.

"You look so beautiful," my mother tells me, "so grown up." I smile for the compliment, but find some irony in the statement. I have been the bread winner for years in our home.

"I hope you don't mind the dress. I wanted something special for her to wear today." she sounds nervous. I understand immediately. I am alway so strict with our budgets, but after my win, my mother splurged on the dress for Prim. She looks nice as well, but she is in an older outfit, a dress she saves for special occasions. I am not upset. In fact, I am happy. And I tell her so.

"No, you both look perfect," I say. "Everything is just how it should be." I find tears in my own eyes but blink them away. I refuse to spend time in the past today. Not when everything in the present is so wonderful. We stand together, Prim's arms around my waist, her small build tucked between my mother and I. My mothers arms surrounding us, one at each of our backs. It is so comforting I could stay like this for hours, but I feel a hand on my lower back and remember the last member of my family.

Peeta stands patiently waiting for us. The look of joy on his face must match mine. We collect ourselves, my mother and I turning to greet the Mellarks, while Prim wipes her eyes. I begin.

"Peeta, this is my mother, Evelyn and my sister, Primrose. Mom, Prim this is Peeta and his family." I of course know there names now, but wait for the formal introductions. Peeta and my mother shake hands, but Prim startles me by hugging Peeta. The crowd which I had ignored before now, I hear applaud in appreciation of the heartfelt moment.

"It's very nice to meet you," he tells her with a smile. She backs away and takes my hand. Her small fingers, so different than Peeta's, remind me of the dream in the meadow and the little girl. Prim, though only four years younger, will always be my first child.

"Katniss, Mrs. Everdeen, Prim, this is my family. My mother, Anne, my father, James, and my brothers Jimi and Bailey," he instructs, gesturing to each individual. They are all one hundred percent town. Blonde hair and blue or brown eyes. In the mass of our two families I look like quite the odd ball. However, I can help but to compare our mothers. Mrs. Mellark, better fed, dressed, and curvier than my mother, has a stern look. Even now in this supposedly joyful reunion, she looks unpleasant. The sharp lines of her face betray her character and I pity the baker for losing my mother and being stuck with this woman. In contrast, my mother, even in her worn dress and thin frame, is a great beauty. We all shake hands in greeting. When Peeta's brothers reach Prim, there is a laugh.

"Oh, we know this little cookie monster," Jimi ribs Prim. Prim blushes and Bailey joins the laughter.

"The morning of your win, here comes this little girl running to the back door. Her arms full of strawberries and goat cheese," says Bailey. "Dad hardly open the back door before she rushed in to thank and congratulate us all. Peeta you should have seen the look on moms face." I imagine it looked a lot like the almost scowl she wears now.

"Then dad offers her a cookie in return and it's all over. A pan of cookies and an hour later and Bai and I have to practically carry her back to the seam." Jimi finishes. We all chuckle then, even Prim who still looks embarrassed. She'll be wondering if a scolding will come later for her rudeness to the Mellarks. I can't imagine how much money she cost them on all those treats, but when I spot the sour looks on Anne Mellark's face, I decide to let her off easy.

Effie who had been exceptionally patient with us up until then, orders us back to the platform for our brief greeting and thank you's to district twelve. Peeta does most of the speaking for me, because I'm still antsy to return to the crowd. We then start the procession through the waiting line of well wishers, starting with Mayor Undersee and his family. I am happy to see Madge and tell her I am excited for dinner the following night. Several Peace Keepers including old Cray and Darius are there, along with people from the hob, like Greasy Sae. I wait to come across the Hawthornes, but I don't find them anywhere. This seems odd if they are suppose to be family, but that may not be true in this life.

Well into the afternoon we are taken by car to the square. Bright flags surround the shops and there are rows and rows of tables packed into the confined space. The food we are served is not the fine cuisine of the Capitol but it tastes better to me. When I inquire about the bread, Mr. Mellark confirms that it was produced by his own hands. I am shocked by what this must have cost to donate, when he explains the Capitol sought out and commissioned several local businesses to cater the event. On the tables before us is literally the best of district twelve. Again, I think how delicious it all tastes, because it is all from home. After this explanation, Mrs. Mellark looks as happy as I have seen her today. I can imagine it has something to do with the size of the commission they will receive for so much work. I try to look at her objectively. Search for a good traits, maybe something she passed onto her sons. Certainly they have some of her physical features, her golden hair, her brown eyes and her height. But I can't find the sour personalities in Peeta's brothers. Peeta himself is his father, through and through. The only boy to receive James Mellark's curls and blue eyes. I wonder if, in youth, Mr. Mellark was as well spoken and articulate as his son. I think he must have been. I wonder how much he is forced to censor his words and feelings in front of the witch, the one who hits his children. I take Peeta hand under the table. I know I have gotten not only the very best of the Mellarks, but the very best man in Panem.

The reporters try to swarm us after we eat, but Peace Keepers usher them back to the station. My mother is not afforded to voice her feeling on my relationship one way or another, for now. I find this all odd until Effie finds her way to the stage and presents Mayor Undersee. Apparently it is time for another message from Snow. An announcement, either specific for twelve or so direct, that Snow chooses not to read it himself on air. The mayor is unhappy, that much is clear and we are all about to learn why.

"Citizens of District Twelve I read you the following address, strait from the office of President Snow. All information I bare is to be upheld as the law of the Capitol. With out further pause, the new regulations read: In accordance with the Capitols position on marriage and family, the following allowances and rules, will come to pass. One. Adults may be married at the age of fifteen, unless a strong objection is given for individuals under eighteen, by a family member or District leader. This objection can be appealed to the Capitol by the couple, in writing. Two. Each newly wed couple will be allotted five years worth of tesserae. The new tesserae will include standard portions of wheat and oil, plus the new addition of dried milk and canned meat. Three. Each child resulting from marriage, will also receive a five year supply of tesserae. Four. No child shall be born out of wedlock. This is at odds with the Capitol's beliefs on family. Persons found to disregard this law will be punished severely," Mayor Undersee looks sick, but pushes forward. "A woman found to be with child and without a husband will earn fifteen lashes, unless a man steps forward to claim her, the child, and their punishment. A marriage must then result before the birth of said child. These are the regulations of a new Panem, your cooperation is appreciated. Your dedication to your nation is praised." The man before us finishes his monologue and there is an out burst of chatter. Some people are boldly and openly objecting to the severity of the new law. Others, those that stand to benefit from the new tesserae, seem excited. Yet more people are just confused and ask those near by for clarification.

"Attention all," The Mayor calls us to order again. "I have just pressed upon you a lot of new information, but I cannot stress the importance that each of you understand. Please make sure your neighbors and those not able to fit into the square tonight learn of these new rules. Answers to questions or printed rules can be obtained from my office. I wish you all a goodnight." He exits the stage and noise breaks out again.

Effie is trying to rally the crowd to congratulate us again, but no one is listening now. Some are talking too loud amongst themselves, while others leave immediately. Her efforts are useless and Haymitch pulls her down from the stage after several minutes. Our families are silent but I can feel Mrs. Mellark's eyes bore into the back of my head as I turn to Peeta. I can't fathom her reaction, even if she doesn't care for me, surely she can't blame me for the new laws. Furthermore, she won't be having any children out of wedlock, since divorce is equally illegal. I wonder how she thinks the rules will affect her at all. I push her away from my mind and turn all my focus to the deep blue eyes looking at me. We will have to be careful, that is a given. Even with out Snow's previous threats, we will be watched here at home too. I desperately want to know what Haymitch let on to Peeta last night. The presidents actions are getting stranger by the minute and feel like I need some direction. The mayor's ending notes on the 'importance' of this matter have me scared. I feel as if I could unwilling step out of line and land us all in hot water with the Capitol. I am trying decide whether or not to speak. Nothing I can say to him here will clarify my own confusion. He must be at a loss as well because our combined speechless state only ends when I feel a small tap on my shoulder.

Little Posy Hawthorne's face lights up when she sees me. I hug her, before I even recognize what my actions might say. But before I can second guess myself, my mother offers a kind of explanation to the Mellarks and those around us.

"Hazelle, it's so nice to see you and the kids. I was worried you wouldn't make it with all the extra work," my mother says. "Mr. and Mrs. Mellark these are our dear family friends, the Hawthornes. You might recognize them from their interviews during the games. Our children are great friends, both being mining families originally. Now I sometimes help Hazelle with her laundry service. This are her children Posy, Vick, and Rory and Katniss's good friend Gale," she introduces. I see him then, standing protectively close to the younger children. Apparently my show for the cameras left no doubts of my feelings. Our love was so true to Panem that they could believe I preferred my gentle Peeta over tall, dark, and handsome Gale. Not that my Peeta wasn't handsome, quite the opposite, but a close relationship with another man would still be hard to present to the audience. Of course we were convincing, I think, it's all true. Still I think they must have played up or mother's 'friendship' or maybe the trauma of or fathers deaths. Another series of questions I don't have answers for and will have to try to ask someone later about. I catch his eye and rise from my seat. He is happy to see me at first but upon catching my linked hand with Peeta, he frowns slightly. My anger at our past, or would be future, falters. The Gale who conspired with Beetee on bombs in thirteen, is not the boy in front of me. And with Prim an arms reach away I let is all go for now. Introductions are carrying on around us and I take the moment to lean in to hug him. I mean it to be quick, even keeping my hand in Peeta's, but he holds me like he did in the woods. I am not overly emotional as I was that day, but I still worry about appearances. I try to sound casual as I speak to my friend, I haven't talked to in years.

"I missed you all," I say vaguely and pull away quicker than he is ready to break the hug. Peeta stands and I wrap my arm in his.

"Gale this is Peeta," I say lamely. He knows who he is, he just doesn't know what he means to me, yet. I think he is trying to look casual, maybe even friendly as he and Peeta return greetings. The reunion is shortened as Effie joins us and I am happy to see her.

"Katniss, Peeta, I leave tonight but I will be in contact with you soon. Remember, answer your phones in the new houses. Which reminds me, Haymitch will be able to let you in tomorrow...I know, I know. It wasn't my idea, but there is so much going on and he was the last resort. Also, all the district twelve cars will be in use. I already begged the mayor, but it's no good. So you will have to move on your own. Remember dinner at the Undersee's tomorrow night. And manors please." She leaves us both with a kiss on the cheek. By the time she is done, the Hawthorne have drifted away. The rest of our party seems equally ready to go. Peeta releases his family, given his father one more hug and promises to return to the bakery after walking my mother, Prim and I home, safely. I want to object, certainly we can manage, but I realize tonight I will sleep without him no matter what dreams find me.

We try to find Haymitch, but Prim is fading fast, so we leave without a farewell. Halfway home on the dark road Prim starts to stumble. I catch her and start to lift her, though she is too old and too heavy to carry. Peeta sees my intention and picks her up with ease. She doesn't protest. I guess I was right. She is definitely on our side. My mother is polite but quiet. When we get to the door of our small home, Peeta places Prim back on her feet.

"If it is alright with you Mrs. Everdeen, I thought I would bring my brothers by tomorrow to help with the move." Peeta offers. I look to my mother for objections.

"That would be very nice Peeta," she answers, "We'll see you in the morning then." Peeta gestures over his shoulder toward the small meadow before the fence and tugs my hand a little. He wants to talk and I am eager to comply.

"I'll be in side in a few minutes," I tell my mother. She gives me a speculative look, perhaps she thinks we are running off together.

"Don't be to long," she says. "I'd like to talk before bed."

I nod and she closes the door behind her. We run together the twenty yards or so from the house and Peeta rounds on me. I am opening my mouth, a question on my tongue. But he seals his lips to mine. I am not unpleased with the feeling, but annoyed by immediate disappointment. I was sure we could get a few words in now. I start to breathe heavy as he probes his tongue in my mouth. I feel him pull my braid free and he grabs at the loose hair until it is a mess around me. What will my mother think of my state? He quickly moves to my chin and neck, running his kisses up to my ear.

"A moan will mean yes, silence no, okay?" he whispers suddenly. I don't understand.

"Do you think we can talk like this now?" He whispers again, deep in my hair. It clicks, he is hiding our conversation the best way he can.

"Peeta," I moan softly in confirmation.

"Everything that has happened since we fell asleep by the lake is impossible but real?" he questions.

"Mmmm" I say into his neck.

"It's just you and me here, no one else knows the future. We don't know the future anymore, either..." I peck his lips and nod. He sighs either in relief or resignation, I can't tell. He buries his face into my shoulder.

"Haymitch told me last night that there is more going on with Snow than he is letting on. He refused to say more and told us not to question him. He said he would let us know when the time was right. No matter what you cannot ask him, okay?" he says in a rush.

He captures my lips again. I push firmly against his body, grabbing at his curls. Poor Peeta will get all my frustration. We break and he moves to my ear again. I let out a gasp I hope he takes as a yes.

"Haymitch knows we are in love, but not Capitol puppets. He said the best way to stay safe is to do exactly what they say for now, no matter what. We have to get married...they expect us to have children," he tells me. This part I knew, or suspected at least, but it doesn't make it any easier to swallow.

"Katniss after tonight we can't wait long," he urges. I am sure he is thinking of the new laws. I am preparing my retort, when he leans in again.

"Katniss they are getting rid of birth control," he says with genuine fear. "Haymitch gave me a few condoms, but I'm scared to even try, now. They are setting us up for failure, if they want us to wait till the victors tour." I hear someone coming up the rough walkway and pull Peeta back to me. I put all my tension into the kiss. My tongue pressing deep in his mouth running along his bottom lip. He shudders and slides his hand low over my hip.

"It's past curfew, even for Victors." I look up to see Darius chuckle in his Peace Keepers uniform. I scowl and I get laughs from both boys.

"Into the house Miss Everdeen. Come on Mellark I'll escort you home," he says mildly.

"I'll see you in the morning then," Peeta tells me. He plants one more kiss on me and fleetingly tries to smooth my hair.

I realize just how disheveled I must look when I see my mothers expression, as I join her at our small table.

"You really are crazy for that boy then?" she says, cutting to the point.

"Yes, I really love him," I say.

"Katniss he seems like a good boy, but after today, I'm scared for you. With all these new laws and the way that woman looked at you..." I know exactly what 'woman' she is referring to. "Things are getting complicated and you're so young. I know you have a lot of expectations on you but now that you're home you can live your life again. You don't have to rush anything...Gale missed you." I am amazed at how right and wrong she is on this topic. I am also horrified by how liberally she is speaking. I have to set the record strait. After we are in the new house, she can never repeat any of this.

"Please listen, I can only tell you this once," I say, pushing meaning into every syllable. She must understand, because she does not interrupt and focuses on my face, to catch every word. "You must trust and support all my decisions from this point on. Some may seem sudden or out of character, but this is not the case. Everything I do is because I love Peeta, you and prim." She thinks this over for a long time, but finds objection eventually.

"You're just very young for some of those choices,"she says with concern. I answer the only way I can and hope it's is enough to end this talk for ever.

"President Snow, himself, has given us his blessing," I say. She thinks long and hard, again. I think I have silenced her.

"But is it what you want?" she asks. Part of my mind screams no. But the answer to this question is much to complicated. I summon the happy picture Peeta gave me of our wedding day and answer with confidence.

"Yes."

Chapter 18

P POV

"I gotta hand it to you Mellark," says Darius, as we head back to town, "you must have some kind of charm with the ladies, to nab that one." I am caught off guard by the comment, but he speaks without sarcasm, so I think he is trying to be friendly.

"Just the one lady," I reply.

"Still, that girl is stubborn," he says. "Hawthorne's been trying for years and hasn't cracked her." I don't know where he is going with this, so I don't answer. We are nearing the bakery and whatever his motives he will be out of time soon. He stops when the shop is just in view.

"I think you're all right Mellark, but that girl has been through a lot. She doesn't have a father to say certain things and believe me I know I'm not qualified...But I feel like someone needs to say something, for her sake..." His words are slightly jumbled, but his intentions are good. I push back the annoyance at being pulled into another relationship talk and reassure him. Hoping this will end it.

"I swear on my life, I meant every word I have spoken. I meant it when I went into the games with her and I mean it even more now," I say. He shakes my hand. I can see some embarrassment in his red cheeks as he leaves. I enter my old home, hoping that will be the last conversation about Katniss and I for a while.

My father is in the kitchen working on the morning batch of bread dough. I wash my hands and roll up my sleeves. He shifts to the left to allow a work station for me and we wordlessly start the assembly line we so often used. The work is like second nature, almost calming. I catch his smile several times.

"I'm happy to be home too," I tell him. He just winks in reply.

"Dad I'll need the large cart tomorrow. Katniss and her family will need help moving. If Bai, Jimi and I all go first thing in the morning, we should be done quickly. We'll be able to pick up the grain and head back here before mid day." He is nodding his head at me, when I hear my mother behind me.

"Then who will help your father and I with the morning baking. You have a duty to this family first. That girl is not your responsibility," she snaps. I learned at a young age to pick my battles with my mother. Somethings were no worth fighting over. But I was not going to roll over on this one. It could take Katniss weeks to move if it all had to be done by hand. One or two trips by cart with three of us to pull it and we'd be done. I sigh, collecting my words carefully. But my father steps in, as he rarely does and with the voice of finality he uses in these times.

"Anne, the boys are taking the cart. They'll be back early," he says sternly. "It's the least I can do for my son: the Victor," he smiles at me proudly.

I help my father prepare as much as I can for the next day. It's hard working , baking short staffed. I almost feel guilty, but I know I have paid for this favor with years and years of bread baking and cake decorating. Finally I head up to the small bedroom I share, for at least one more night, with my two older brothers. When I enter I can tell they have been waiting for me, though I don't immediately register why. They are sitting on Bailey's bed, separated by my large Capitol luggage. It is propped open, but they are not looking in it, instead they stare expectantly at me.

"How was the Capitol brother?" starts Bailey.

"Before or after I was sent into hand to hand combat?" I ask dryly. This does not sway their sympathy. They plug on with what must be a carefully concocted charade.

"Hmm, I'm going to say after," Jimi concludes. "How was the capitol on the Victors end of things." I'm tired of the game, but the quickest was to end it will be to play along, something I have learned from years of them ganging up on me.

"Boring sitting in the hospital...annoying being prepped for interviews... tiring having to thank all our sponsors...but the food was good." I finish lamely, knowing I didn't say anything they cared about. Bailey looks to Jimi in mock surprise.

"You mean Miss Everdeen doesn't even make your list," Bailey says

"Of course, Katniss is the best part of everything," I can almost feel myself walking into it. Both their faces light in identical smirks. Jimi reaches into the suit case and pulls out a handful of condoms.

"If you say she is the best, I believe you little brother." They bust into laughter, Jimi barely able to finish his words. My first reaction is to tackle one of them, but that would eventually bring my mother or father into the room and I would have more to deal with. Instead I sit on my own bed. I can't help but chuckle a little myself, not because I want to encourage the teasing or approve of this kind of talk about Katniss. More that it feels good to see and hear them again. When things quiet, Jimi returns the packages to my suitcase and he slides it across the floor to me.

"Thanks," I say

"Oh no, you're not getting off that easy. You've let too much get by us as it is," Jimi tells me.

"What he means is you've gotten too much by him. I knew you liked her for years now," Bailey corrects

"You're full of shit Bai. You thought it was Madge. At assembly you would always say 'look at Peeta staring at the Mayor's daughter again'."Jimi mimics him with such precision, I have to laugh.

"Is that what you thought?" I say.

"Who could tell? They always sat together. Besides, you're such a good boy. I never would have thought, a girl from the seams," Bailey shrugs.

"She's not just a girl..." I start

"We know, we know...you loved her since five, even the birds adore her... " Jimi says

"That made for quite the night here, by the way, dad yelled back for once." Bailey cuts in. Again I feel guilty. My father is not perfect, but he is a good man. He doesn't deserve to get berated for something he said more than eleven years ago to his son.

"But what we want to know is: what's the story now?" Jimi redirects. I ponder how to convey my feelings sincerely, with out earning too much more teasing. I decide to mostly be honest and very direct.

"I love her. She is stubborn and sometimes guarded, but she is smart, strong, and beautiful. She's the one. I'm lucky she feels it too." I confide in them. And then I lie, "The physical stuff is all new for both of us, but what we have done is amazing. We haven't has sex, I don't think we will until everything's legal."

"Well mom hates her, but that really just adds to her appeal...I'm sold!" Jimi laughs

"That's good because your waking up with me to help her family move in the morning," I smirk in triumph.

There is a lot of grumbling when morning does come, but both of my brothers eventually pull themselves out of bed. My parents are already up baking, as we prepare to leave. When my mother goes to the front of the shop to do a morning inventory, my father quickly wraps a large hot loaf of bread and sends us out the back.

"Give my best wishes to the Everdeens," he whispers.

We make easy work of pulling the large empty cart, until we get out of town and turn into the seam. The morning mine shift is heading in and there is a steady stream of workers passing. We do our best to go with the flow of traffic, but the uneven ground makes for difficult work. The houses in this part of the district all look similar to me and I start to worry I have past there home, when Prim comes into view. She is watching for us from their front porch and waves eagerly. She sniffs toward the bread hopefully, sending my brothers into more laughs,and invites us in. Katniss and her mother emptying cabinets. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her. There are no pretty dresses this morning, instead she wears plain working clothes, but her happiness is tangible. It makes her look younger and more beautiful, even from our last meeting. She greets me with a gentle kiss, because we are with company. After the six of us split the loaf, Mrs. Everdeen divides us into tasks.

I was right about the content of the small house. Only leaving the furniture, everything easily fits on the large bakery cart. As we load the last of it, Bailey teasing to put Prim on top, more help arrives. Gale and the oldest of his younger brothers, Rory, head up the street.

"We thought you might need help today Catnip, but it looks like you got it covered," Gale says.

"No. It's a long way to the new house and it will be quicker if we can switch out instead of taking breaks," Katniss says, but he looks hesitant. After years and years of knowing the man, I still don't know how to feel about Gale. So I do, what I have always done and I try to be nice, while I look after Katniss's best interests.

"It's good to see you again Gale," I offer my hand, "we really could use the help. My brothers and I are expected back to the bakery with supplies in a few hours." We shake, as if in agreement, instead of greeting.

"Okay, I'll go first," he commands. Gale's strength rivals mine and we make good time as we pull the cart together first. I hear my brothers snicker several times. They are convinced I am showing off, but it is more than that. After last night's conversation with Darius, I feel the need to show that I can take care of Katniss. The idea is ridiculous considering all the times we have saved each other, but in some ways I feel like I have started over in this world. That old victories don't count. Or may be it is the idea of having this Gale back. The young Gale who still seeks out Katniss's affections. The only other man to kiss her lips and hold a piece of her heart. With a sudden jarring of my nerves, I realize I have landed back where I started, intimidated by Gale and his relationship with Katniss. I will have to deny these feelings for now, they did no good for me last time either. At least now I have the benefit of knowing Katniss's true mind, even if I can't predict Gales.

I focus on my surroundings to stop my analysis and realize I have missed most of a conversation carried on at the back of our cue. Prim and Rory, who have been enlisted to carry several light but fragile items, have been explaining to Katniss about new testing. I missed too much to make sense of it.

"What are they saying?" I ask Gale. He doesn't respond. I wonder if he is going to ignore me, but I wait patiently. I hear the word 'test' again from the back and Gale nods slightly.

"They are talking about the new competency tests at the end of the year. The Capitol is adding a portion this year to screen us for any hidden aptitudes. They say it's not a test to study for, but Prim and Rory are stressed anyways," he laughs.

"What are they looking for?" I wonder.

"I'm not sure, but they claim each us of could 'change the nation' with our special hidden talents," Gale says with a note of bitterness.

"And what's your special hidden talent Gale?" I say in teasing.

"Nothing as clever as your's, mud pile," he shoots back in anger. I can't help my laughter because it's absurd, but true.

"Yes, my last line of defense against dying," I say through chuckle's. He fights the smirk on his own face and loses. His stern facade crumbling, until we are laughing lightly together.

We have reached the train station and are forced to stop by the heavy flow of foot traffic. The platform is full of newly arriving Peace Keepers, in formation. Cray, Head Peace Keeper, holds a heavily laden clip board and keeps up a constant conversation with the men around him. The district cars are standing by. Some towns people have gathered, probably wonder the same things I am now. What is happening to draw so may troops here? We stay and watch as the minutes pass, our way blocked.

The rest of our group joins us from the back. Katniss looks worried. Her lips are pressed into a long line, to keep her words in.

"I could go ask," I say. She shakes her head violently. Even as a Victor it is not appropriate to question Peace Keepers or the Capitol's actions. We stand aimlessly, still stuck in the chaos. The sun is high now, it must be noon. The guilt sweeps me, as I think of the bakery. We should try to hurry. Then there is a ripple in the crowd and Cray appears.

"Just the ladies I was looking for," he says. "Mrs. Everdeen, am I correct to assume you and Primrose will be joining katniss at her new residence?"

"Yes sir," she answers politely.

"Good, then we will be using your home and three empty beds to house some of the new Peace Keepers," Cray cuts in.

"We only have two beds in the old house," Katniss protest. I can't imagine this idea is sitting well with her. New Peace Keepers anywhere in her space, even the old home, will bother her greatly. He frowns at the comment and looks back at his clip board. He vigorously scratches something out and draws several lines across the page.

"Well then, I'm sorry to inform you: a Peace Keeper will join you in your new residence," he says in annoyance. The anger flares in me. This must be another way to watch us. Another way to keep Katniss under their thumb. Gale beats me to words.

"She's a Victor, there must be another option," Gale says, anger thick in his own voice. Cray is looking more frustrated, but we are surrounded by viewers and the point Gale has brought up is a fare one.

"This I am aware of son," he says, as if talking to a child. "But I have two hundred new Peace Keepers in today and they all need a place to sleep. Until new accommodations are built, the Capitol has asked the citizens to house them. Miss Everdeen is lucky only to take one. Mr. Abernathy will have four, and Mr. Mellark's extra rooms will eventually be filled by Capitol officials." I have a flicker of amusement as I think of both Haymitch and the Peace Keepers reactions upon entering his home. I'm not sure he even has sheets on his own bed. But a more pressing issue consumes me. A stranger will be in the Everdeen home tonight. Or did it have to be a new Peace Keeper?

"Head Peace Keeper Cray," I address him formally, "perhaps with three women in the home we should be selective with who stays with the Everdeens?"

"Are you insinuating bad behavior on the behalf of my..." Cray begins sternly.

"Not at all sir," I say quickly. "I only thought it might make little Prim more comfortable to have someone she knows." He mulls this over. Katniss stares at me, eyes wide.

"Fine Mr. Mellark, you are practically the man of that house, who would you like to stay there?" Cray complies. Gale bristles slightly at the comment and Katniss looks unsure.

"I think they know Darius," I answer.

"Fine," he says, then yells over his shoulder, "O'Maley you just hit the jack pot." Darius O'Maley appears at his shoulder. Cray explains the situation briefly to him, but he waits for Cray to leave again, before breaking into a smile. The Peace Keepers may be compensated well, but some of their houses look no more impressive than Katniss's old home. Living in a new room in Victor's Village will be a treat. I wonder again who they will put with Haymitch. I hope they are not expecting much.

Darius addresses the Everdeens, who all look relieved, and reassures them he only needs the room. He doesn't plan to get in there way or impress on their privacy. I respect the gesture, but hope Katniss still retains a high level of caution. No matter his character, Darius works for the government. And whether or not he wants them to know what's in his head, they have all kinds of ways to pul it out of him.

Our journey continues shortly after. Darius and a few other Peace Keepers force a path for us and my brothers insist on taking the cart. My unoccupied hand finds Katniss's. Gale walks quietly with Rory behind us. I feel him watching and wonder what he sees in our actions. The hand holding, the confident smiles, and the small kisses I give to the top of her head... Does he understand the truth of it. I am not putting on a show for him, but I hope he sees it just as clearly. It would make things a whole lot easier if Gale Hawthorne got over his feelings for my future wife soon.

Chapter 19

K POV

Peeta and his brothers had to leave as soon as the cart was unloaded. The work of the bakery could not be delayed anymore and they would need Peeta to do catch up work before dinner tonight. When Haymitch finally stumbled over to let us in, I tried to look surprised by the interior of our 'new house'. He is still a wreck from the night before, but somehow manages to remember the keys to the houses and two envelopes Effie has left for Peeta and I. I take my envelope and find my first monthly allowance. It is almost as much as a coal miner would make for a whole year's worth of work. Haymitch forces the other envelope and Peeta's house keys on me as well. I remind him of our event today, but neglected to tell him what Cray had said. I would let the Head Peace Keeper handle that talk.

Gale and Rory stay to help unpack. Everyone is impressed with the new home. My mother swoons over the large kitchen with granite counter tops. Prim loves her bright room over looking a small backyard. I, on the other hand, am slightly disappointed when I flop down on the familiar bed in my room and find the new mattress stiff. It will take years to wear back in Peeta and my comfortable imprints. But I realize it will be a while until Peeta is allowed to sleep with me at all.

The work of setting up the house is fast. We have a limited amount of belongings from the old house and the new house comes already stocked with furniture. The designer of these houses even thought ahead enough to include things like towels, dishes, and books. Perhaps, with the condition of twelve, they expected most of the victors to be like my family, poor seam folk. At the end of our labor Gale hovers in the entrance way, unsure of his next move. The current state of things aside, we didn't generally hang out together if we were not in the woods or the hob. At these times we always had a purpose for our actions. Now, standing in the hall together, words fail us.

"Thank you Gale," I say finally, "you and Rory really helped today." I hope the bitterness of the morning has passed.

"I thought...I might have a chance when you came back, but you're different..." he says, "your happier with him." I feel guarded. I don't want to explain my change, I can't. That would involve a long conversation, that no one would believe anyways. So I smile sadly and wait for more.

"It would be better if he was easier to hate," he says, his expression almost painful. I laugh at the repetition of his words from my past. Leave it to Peeta to charm stubborn Gale in two separate lifetimes. Like Prim, you can't help but like Peeta. They are both too good.

"Thanks, Gale," is all I manage. I know his feelings haven't changed, but he is not irrational. He knows he will achieve nothing now by trying to fight with Peeta over me. I wonder if he will cling to hope that I might change my mind. I wish with all my heart that he won't. It will make the months to come more painful for him, having to watch me marry another man. I feel another wish surface and I feel like the selfish little girl, the one I had swore I was not. I want Gale to remain my friend. I don't want to loose him again. He will always be such an important part of my past, my families means of survival. I can't reconcile how, but I hope our friendship will last through his heartbreak this time. I give him a light hug in parting, but pull back soon, to avoid mixing messages. Part of me is sad, I think of how Gale will be hunting alone from now on. But then I recall several events of the past few days.

"Gale you can't go into the woods or hob anymore," I say quickly. Snow already knows of these actions, he had threatened me against them himself. It will do no more or less harm, to warn Gale now. He looks confuses, maybe irritated.

"Please Gale, it's against the law." I hope he is thinking about all the new Peace Keepers. Finally he nods in understanding.

"If I can't come by soon, I'll send Prim or my mother." He looks annoyed again. He doesn't want my help or a hand me outs, but he cannot refuse now. Not with so much of his income suddenly cut off. He says no more than a farewell, but I am sure I will hear his complaints in time.

When Gale and Rory have gone, I must turn my attention to a more unpleasant task, preparing myself for tonight. Their are no cameras or prep teams for this event, but I know my appearance is still important. In a sudden whim I find my mother and sister. I hand over the envelope, I ask them to go to the square and see if they can buy us all new dresses for tonight. My mother tries to refuse, saying she at least, has plenty to wear. But I sway her before she leaves the house. My mother has worked hard too, she deserves to look nice. And I hate to think of Anne Mellark better dressed than her.

Their trip is quick and they arrive home as I am towel drying my hair. I show both Prim and my mother how to use the shower. Even growing up in town, my mother didn't have this luxury before. The dresses they have picked out are much less elaborate than Capitol designs, but they are beautiful spring colors and they fit perfectly with the nights event. The white dress I wear reminds me of Madge's own reaping clothes. It is probably cut from the same pattern, but the material is different. It flows a little when I walk. I don't care for the large pink bow that runs under my chest and down my back, but I know it must make me look younger. More innocent even. And that would probably be Cinna's goal for tonight. My mother finishes my hair, by pulling the curling iron down the length of my slightly wavy locks. It flattens out, just curling at the ends. It will never stay in the humidity of the day, but the effect is nice. I leave my face clean again. Make up is not common in district twelve, it would only make me look out of place.

We leave the house unlocked, because I am not sure when Darius will arrive to claim his new room. I don't know what kind of schedules Peace Keepers have, but I guess I'll find out soon enough. I was grateful for Peeta's intervention this afternoon, which landed us with Darius over a stranger. But I am still a little put off by Peeta's boldness. Cray almost took his words out of context and the effects could have been dangerous.

The Undersee's house is large, one of the few homes in twelve that could contain this many people. Still it feels very full and I know eyes will be on me every minute. I find Madge first and greet her with a hug. She is surprised by my candidness but not unpleased. We chat for sometime about the games and tells me the Mellarks haven't arrived yet.

"I love your dress," she tells me, "I was admiring it in the shop, just the other day." I thank her and now notice her clothing. Her dress is a pale yellow that compliments her golden hair and green eyes. Unlike mine, it makes her look older, curvier. The design is unique. Nothing I have seen here in the shops before. The smooth bodice, held over one shoulder and the delicately pleated skirt, could be of Cinna's own mind. I openly admire it.

"Thank you," she tells me, "My mother helped me design and sew it." I didn't know Madge had such talent. It's ironic, in someways Madge, with only her five slips of paper in the ball, would have made a more prepared victor. She had the Mocking Jay pin, the grace and manors Effie would have approved of, and a true gift to craft after the games. I remember her dead aunt then, the one taken by the vicious birds in Haymitch's own games, and distract myself with some sweet tea from a nearby table.

The Mellarks arrive as we are called to the long table to eat. I try to catch Peeta but we are ushered into assigned seating. In traditional style they have placed men and women on separate sides of the table. My mother shifts uncomfortably, seated next to Anne Mellark. Haymitch is no where in sight. I wonder if the news of his new house guests has made him forget all about his prior commitments. Maybe, without the cameras trained on us, he has given into alcohol for another night and is too drunk to care.

Our hostess, Mrs. Undersee, in a rare appearance, introduces the various occupants of the table. Tonight we will enjoy the company of the city board members and several shop owners. I know some of the faces, having sold they meat or fruit from time to time, but they are formal with their greetings to the 'new Victors'. Not letting on our past together. I understand why. Another set of harsh laws has them just as scared to break the old ones. Letting on now that they knew a young girl from the seam would not look good for them.

Dinner conversation could be from a script, I think it might be. The Mayor greets us and leads us in a conversation about the games. Some questions feel forced and not at all appropriate to talk about over food. Peeta sits across from me and I can read the same thoughts on his face. During a particularly detailed question to Peeta about Cloves death, I see him falter. He pales with sickness, but swallows hard enough to gain his composure. I tune out his answer, but I know it will be short. As desert comes, a large delicately iced cake, probably from the Mellark's own bakery, the conversation turns to Peeta and my relationship.

"Mrs. Everdeen, I hear Peeta helped with the move today. What do you think of Katniss's new relationship?" Undersee says, he sounds board. My whole body stiffens, hoping our talk from the previous night has affected her enough to say the right thing. I know beyond a doubt there are listening devices here. Anything said now will be heard by Snow.

"All the Mellark boys are so well mannered and they were such a great help to me and my girls today. Peeta in particular is the very image of what a young man should be. I think he and my Katniss are very good for each other," my mother answers. I sigh a breath of relief, until I hear the huff down the table. Mrs. Mellark is making her distaste of the situation known. Peeta better talk to his own mother before I slap her, I think internally.

Peeta can sense my irritation. In a gesture that would make Effie proud, he raises his glass.

"I would like to take this opportunity on behalf of the Everdeens and the Mellarks, to thank our gracious hosts. Mrs. Undersee, thank you for letting us into your beautiful home. And Mayor Undersee, thank you for your generous praise and exciting dinner conversation. Cheers!" We all comply, but the table returns to silence afterwards. Apparently the Mayor has run out of script. After dessert, we don't loiter. My mother, probably displeased with the reaction Mrs. Mellark had to her words, seems more than ready to get home. I grab hold of Peeta, not ready for our parting.

"Haymitch left your keys with me and an envelope from Effie. If you walk back with us you can get into your new house tonight," I tell him.

"I think that's a good idea," he says. I see him eye his mother and imagine he is not too pleased with her either.

"I just have a few things packed to get from the bakery," he says.

"You helped us move. I think we can help you," I smile at him.

We make it to the bakery before the rest of the Mellarks and Peeta is able to slip in and out of his old home quickly. Prim and I help, but Peeta's luggage is even slimmer than ours. I wonder if there is more to take, but he is to eager to leave, to take time to pack it. We find Darius on our steps at home with his own luggage. He explains that he just arrived, but didn't want to enter without us. I hope this is a good sign of behavior to come. I didn't need another person invading my privacy. My mother shows Darius into the house and I retrieve Peeta's keys and allowance.

Despite the positive words my mother had for my relationship, I don't push my luck. I walk Peeta to his door but don't go in. He holds my face in his hands and plants several kisses at my lips. They are warm and gentle, careful not to incite any overly intense reactions from either of us. He rest his forehead against mine.

"I'm so spoiled by you now, I'm actually dreading sleeping alone again," Peeta says with a half hearted laugh. Anyone listening would think of us in the cave. What Peeta is speaking to, is something much greater. It's the rhythm of many years together. Falling asleep in each others arms and waking to a new day with a person you trust and love above all others. This was the greatest of comforts and we were in deed very spoiled on it.

"I know what you mean," I tell him sincerely. He looks worried, maybe thinking of the dream, just two nights before, that woke me.

"Will you be ok?" He asks. But I know there is nothing we can do about the current state of things. We will have to wait it out.

"I will be," I tell him.

"If you don't think your mother will mind, I can come by for breakfast. I'll see what my kitchen holds. Maybe I can come up with something good to make," he tells me. I happily agree with the idea and head back to my own home. It's only a few yards away, but it feels like an ocean apart.

I excuse myself to bed quickly. A bad mood has swept over me and I don't want the other occupants of the house to fall victim to it. I strip down to my underwear and pull on a soft, worn nightgown. It's probably one of the few items I will be allowed to keep from my old wardrobe, because no one will see it. It feels like home. A chill runs over me as night comes and I burrow into the bed. I try to find sleep, but it alludes me. My anger, spurred on by teenaged angst, comes in a series of questions all revolving around Snow. What was he trying to gain here? Whatever it was, it must be punishment because he is driving me mad. Both pushing Peeta and I together in the long term, but separating us now, seems cruel and unusual. Well, I think to my self, aren't all his punishments cruel and unusual. I remember his genuine smile at the first interview, the two crowns, and the way the Game Keepers hadn't changed the rule on us. No, I didn't really think it was punishment. At least not in Snow's eyes. Surely we would continue to be subjected to the constant oppression he rains over Panem, but I was starting to believe that, in his mind at least, he was trying to reward us. The idea is absurd, but I remind myself this is a different life time. The President's character will be the same, but his feelings toward us may have truly changed. My thinking circles back to my original question. What are his real motives? I did not believe his speech to Peeta and I at first, but maybe there is some truth in it. Certainly these new laws did encourage the population growth, he proclaimed we so desperately needed. But the idea of this 'new industry' did not sit well with me. I guess time would tell.

The house has gone completely silent. Prim, my mother, and Darius will all be tucked into their beds by now. A sudden nagging idea comes to me. I try to push it away. It would not be appropriate behavior. But if what Cray had said was true about government officials arriving soon, this might be one of my only chances. With this, I rally myself. You will be back before they wake, I command. I spring lightly from the bed and make my way out of the house. I regret not grabbing a jacket or shoes when I feel the cold air, but know it might have made more noise as I exited. Besides, when I slip back into the house I don't want to be caught with them in hand.

Peeta's door is locked. I stare at it in frustration. Knocking will also be too noisy. Another idea comes to me. I find a front window blissfully open and squeeze my body through. I find his room at the top of the stairs and consider the best way to enter. I decide if I can get my arms around him, even in sleep, he will know it's me.

I can tell he is sleeping lightly because as soon as I am beside him, his eyes flutter open. He smiles widely.

"I hoped you would come for a visit," he says.

"You locked the door, you must not have wanted me here that bad," I tease him.

"Wasn't the window unlocked?" he jokes back. He knows me too well. I kiss him, all annoyance forgotten now that we are together.

"I feel like a silly teenager. Anytime I'm away, I want to pout," I say.

"You are a teenager," he laughs, "but I understand. You're on my mind all the time. Unfortunately all my thoughts are not so pure."

"Peeta Mellark, what are you trying to say?" I laugh.

"I want you bad," he tells me all jokes aside.

"Then have me," I say and press my body to his.

"Wait..."he says, against his bodies will.

"We should think this through before we go to far and I can't control myself..." I know he is thinking of the severity of the new laws. The grave consequences of stepping out of line.

"We only have so many supplies..." No oral birth control and a few condoms is all we have to work with for the next six months.

"We rushed before and forgot certain things about you..." I was in my true sixteen year old body. I was a virgin who had never even been touched.

"I don't want to hurt you again..." I didn't know if there would be pain or not. Last time we took months to build up to actually having sex. By then my body was more accommodating to Peeta's size.

"So let's go slow, but have some fun," I conclude. He is happy and relieved. He answers in agreement with his actions.

With one hand tangled in my loose hair, he runs his free fingers down the front of my nightgown to my thigh. Hooking one palm under my leg, he raises me knee and pulls me open, to settle his our body on top of mine. The pressure of him is a welcome relief. I feel the gentle tug of my hair and roll my head back to expose my neck. Peeta runs his tongue up from my collarbone to a place just bellow my neck. He sets several wet kisses there before brushing his teeth along my skin. I shudder and goosebumps run down my arms. He works his way along my jaw, back to my lips.

I surge forward into his willing mouth with need. I rub my tongue again and again in circles past his lips. My hands find his chest and I push him roughly onto his back. I straddle him and pull off my loose night gown, leaving my chest bare. As I run my hands under his shirt, I rock hard over the seat of his pants. He brings his large hands up to cup my breasts and runs his thumbs over their peaks. I feel him harden against me, only the thin layer of his boxers and my panties dividing us. The friction of it against my center, makes me throb in anticipation. I lose control and whimper.

"Let me take care of you now..." Peeta says. He brings his body to meet mine and turns me back to the sheets. His lips are firm on mine again. He runs his hand under the elastic band of my underwear.

"You're so wet." he says. I shake with anticipation. I feel him press an single finger into me and my body reacts on instinct. I begin to rock against his hand. He captures my breast in his mouth and sucks.

"Peeta," I moan, grabbing at his back and hair for support. He places his thumb over my most sensitive spot. As I continue to rock, he curls his finger inside of me and runs circle with his thumb. The sensation is over whelming. I feel the pit of my stomach clench. I am on fire and my breathing is coming shallow and fast. I try to speak encouragement, but my words are beyond sense. The pressure is gaining and I stop breathing all together. I cling to Peeta and with relief and pleasure, I come hard on his hand.

Wave after wave of contentment hits me. Peeta pulls me to his chest and I listen to his heart beat slow as I recover. When I have collected myself I start to push my way down the bed. Peeta catches both my arms.

"I'm good," he smiles. I question him with my eyes. He laughs.

"I couldn't hold on with you rocking like that." he says and we both laugh.

"It's more intense than I remember," he adds. I feel it to. It may just be our age and our hormones, but I wonder if being separated so much is having it's affect as well.

When the sky starts to lighten, I regretfully slip out of bed and find my clothes. He promises to see me at breakfast again and I slip down to the yard. The street is quiet and I make it in my own door without incidence. I am so convinced I have made it, that I run headlong into Darius in the upstairs hallway. He is already dressed in his uniform and assesses my state with a skeptical eye.

"I was just in the kitchen getting some water," I offer feebly. His eyes roam to my bare feet.

"Those kitchen floors are pretty dirty," he says. I don't look down, but I am sure they are covered in wet grass and soil.

"Maybe..." I say because I know he knows, but refuse to admit anything.

"You know officials will be arriving tomorrow," he says sternly, "Peeta will have house guests." I nod in understanding. Any further visits will be inhibited by Peeta's new house mates. My curiosity wins over my annoyance at the matter.

"What will they be doing?" I ask.

"I can tell you because the public will know in a few hours. They are surveyors, coming to assess the state of the district and the possibility for industry. They will be looking at the lay out of the land, but they will also be speaking with every man, woman, and child in the district regarding their skills and needs." I note a hint of pride in his voice. Darius O'Maley believes in the good of the government. The idea is preposterous, but then again he is a Peace Keeper, probably born and bred from the thriving District two. I wonder how long it will take for these ideas to shatter around him.

"I should get back to bed," I say excusing myself.

"That would be best," he says and heads down the stairs.


	5. Section 5

Time does not heal all wounds. After the war Katniss struggles to move forward and embrace a new life with Peeta, but can't overcome the ghosts of her past. Will the chance to go back result in a better future or end with the same results?

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created solely for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

**A new chapter is posted at the bottom of this page. Enjoy!**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

Chapter 20

P KOV

If I had been naive enough to have expected some time to enjoy myself now that I was home, I was sorely mistaken. The following week brought about a series of frustrations so great, I felt Katniss or I might snap at any moment.

First, the officials from the Capitol had arrived and brought with them a personal chef. The idea of being freed of cooking for my guests might have been nice, if Katniss, Haymitch and I were not expected to join them for dinner each night. Effie in her first of many calls felt strongly that this was essential to making them feel welcome. Haymitch complied with this particular request with unexpected grace. Katniss and I decided it was because he was happy to be away from the Peace Keepers for the night. But his uncommonly sober state under the circumstances raised more confusion.

Second, after our fun together, Katniss had told me about her run in with Darius. We were both confident he would not press the matter further as long as Katniss behaved, but it effectively put an end to all possible night visits. My want for Katniss did not wane and several times I resorted to touching myself to ease the tension. It helped me maintain a certain level of manners while in public, but it didn't alleviate the loss of having her to hold at night. Nightmares from this lifetime and my last resurfaced with force. Most days I felt like I was walking in a sleep deprived haze and more than once I found the same look of extreme exhaustion in Katniss.

Third, Gale had not been able to access the woods with the influx of new law enforcement and the Hawthorne family was suffering. Katniss and Mrs. Everdeen had both been to their home to offer food, but were always turned down. Katniss eventually resorted to plying Prim with extras for lunch to pass to Rory and Vick at school, but the worry continues to overwhelm her.

Forth, both of our families continue to struggle over the intensity of our new relationship. My initial attempt to join Katniss for breakfast had not gone as planned. Mrs. Everdeen had a meal on the table for her daughters and she seemed to take offense at me trying to serve them with fresh bread and eggs. She was polite in our daily interactions but I felt like I was in a tug of war over Katniss. The one day I was able to stop by the bakery, my own mother was openly insulting toward Katniss, siting her for my long absence. In my anger, I couldn't spare energy on explaining and left without a word.

Finally, upon arrival the 'surveyors' from the capitol began by collecting information on each individual residing in twelve. After three days of 'census taking' they compiled a group of men and tasked them to build new homes. The planned neighborhood would sit adjacent from Victors Village, but no estimate was made on the number of homes to be constructed. Instead, supplies came by train and men worked in shifts day and night, until lumber ran out and they were forced to wait for the next shipment. Despite the long hours and hectic schedule, the workers appeared content. Darius had hinted to Katniss that they were being compensated well by the Capitol. The questions raised by this particular frustration kept my mind occupied for hours, speculating on the Capitols intentions.

I was caught in this same contemplation on the night before the last surveyor was scheduled to leave. Mr. Franklin had come shortly after the first three Capitol officials and out stayed them by two extra days. He had explained initially that his job was more directed at land assessment. The others had come to survey the people, he claimed. Mr. Franklin was much more talkative than the rest, but I found I disliked him just as much. It took less than a day to loose all my respect, when he uttered several poor choice words about the 'filthy children in the slums of town'. Still he was a guest of the Capitol and I was sure with the nature of his job, Mr. Franklin reported directly to Snow and his top advisors. As the chef sets a beautiful dish of shepherds' pie in front of me, I summon all my charisma for our evening dinner chat.

"Mr. Franklin, I hope you have found the accommodations here in twelve acceptable," I say politely

"Surprisingly adequate, Mr. Mellark. Although, I feel as though this part of town is the exception, rather than the norm," he says portentously.

"I'm happy to hear we could make you comfortable while you completed your work," I say cooly.

"Yes, and quite a bit of work it was too," he says. I pause to consider my next words. None of the Capitol officials have spoken of their work here directly. In my third call from Effie before their arrival, she had specially told me not to inquire about their jobs, titles or plans. Do so, would be questioning the President himself. I took her warning literally and have stayed away from the topic. Haymitch, who is sitting across from me, refills Mr. Franklins wine glass. I notice Haymitch's own glass untouched.

"I hope you were satisfied with you results," says Haymitch boldly. I know he has received the same instruction, but it would not be the first time he ignored Effie.

"Thank you Mr. Abernathy. I must say it went better than expected. The land here will accommodate a variety of options and my fellow surveys were pleased with the work force as well. The people here, it seems are poorly educated and mostly unskilled, but their is potential for growth and a good base of raw man power," Mr. Franklin answers. It is apparent he has forgotten he is speaking with three people from the district he speaks of. It must be that or he does not count his words as insult. Knowing the Capitol, I think this might be the case. Either way he is being very forthcoming and Haymitch seems ready to take advantage. This I realize suddenly, has been his plan from the start. Haymitch has been waiting soberly for this opportunity for more than a week and intends to milk it for all it's worth. Katniss looks up from her own dinner and watches the conversation unfold.

"I didn't realize the land here had such potential," says Haymitch.

"Oh, yes. A great deal of unused space, fertile soil, water supplies, and of course the mines. Nearly anything we wish to manufacture here could be achieved easily," says our dinner guest. The comments surprise me. He makes district twelve sound like an asset to the Capitol rather than the burden they play us off as. But I wonder if he has really examined the mines well enough. Though men spend their lives in the dark pits, there never seems to be enough coal to really make any money. It really just barely sustains us. Haymitch pulls this thought right out of my head.

"Do you really think the mines have that kind of potential still?" says Haymitch skeptically.

"Of course. This region has tons upon tons of coal waiting under us. More than enough coal to power all of Panem. A steel factory or two should not present a problem," he continues. I am caught on ever word. Tons of coal and steel factories were in the plan, Snow's plan. This was definitely part of what he was after with all his talk of aiding us poor citizens of district twelve. But what did he want with all that steel? What could you do with steel? That part, at least I knew. You could build just about any powerful thing or structure with steel. I have no more time for thought, Mr. Franklin is speaking again and I must have every word.

"The failures of these mines has nothing to do with the amount of coal available. They are so rudimentary, you still have men digging by hand. The waste of man power alone is absurd. One Capitol built machine can and will do the work of thirty men. Really, the whole undertaking here has been done so wrong for so many years, I am amazed the mines still exist at all. I really don't know how these 'seam' men and women, as you call them, even go down there. With such a bad structure, it's a wonder any one makes it out at the end of their work day," Mr. Franklin pauses to drink from his full wine glass. There is a sudden loud clatter from my side and I turn to see Katniss collecting her own wine glass from her lap. Her face is turned down and her expression is devoid of emotion, but her hands tremble as she dabs at her red stained dress with her napkin.

"Oh it's no bother dear, I almost dropped my own several times," says Mr. Franklin, misinterpreting the cause of this slip.

"Mr. Franklin, I think our Miss Everdeen has had enough wine and company for the night," Haymitch laughs, it sounds incredibly forced. "We'll let Peeta walk her home while the adults share a night cap." Mr. Franklin laughs at our expense and nods at Haymitch's request.

I try to make my parting words with the Capitol Official sound courteous and respectful, the way Effie would want, but they come out rushed. Katniss shakes even on her feet, but I am sure this will be mistaken as drunkenness. She is unbearably silent as we walk across the yard and for once I cannot think of a single thing to say. What words can ease the pain of loosing a father? What comments can fix the carelessness of what has already been said tonight? I try to take Katniss's hand, but her fingers slip limply through mine. She is years away right now, taking on the form of a younger girl, standing at the edge of a mine shaft waiting for her father. Her heart is breaking all over again. I take her to her door but she doesn't let me in. Unlike other pains from the past, this one belongs solely to her and she wants to be alone.

Yes, the frustration of my week had built to it's breaking point, but it was Katniss who finally snapped and I was awoken to it just hours after our disastrous dinner.

I sat up in bed in the middle of a long round of pounding. At first I thought of the housing being installed nearby. Annoyance flared in me until another series of knocks coming from my front door registered. I found a shirt to pull on with my pajama bottoms and hurried down the stairs. I pull it open with some force and find a startled Darius in mid knock. I can't reconcile the person in front of me and I soon realize it is because he is not in his Peace Keepers uniform. Instead his attire reflects mine.

"I need you to come with me now," he says urgently and I understand why. There is only one reason why this particular Peace Keeper would wake me in the night, in an unofficial capacity. Something was very wrong with Katniss.

I don't bother with shoes and I don't speak until we are in the Everdeen's home.

"Where is she," I ask, but as the words slip from my mouth, I hear her already. My name is repeated in audible sobs over and over again from the floor above us. Neither Darius nor Mrs. Everdeen, standing nervously in the hall, stop my progression to her. At the top of the stairs, her door sits ajar. She is in the middle of her large bed curled in upon herself, just like on the train and so many other times. Prim is at her side trying to sooth her with calming pats and gentle words. Horror is etched across her child like face. With a jolt I realize that this may be the first time they have seen her cry like this. It must be, because the wails that come from her now are echos of pain much greater than the sixteen year old they know. Prim moves away when I join them on the bed. I rest my hand on her back, but I don't need to pry her apart tonight. She eagerly scrambles to me, her hands press painfully into my back, her face buried in my shoulder.

"peeta...peeta..."My name rolls off her lips again and again.

"I'm here love, I'm here. Shh."I whisper. Her chant ends but it is replaced by tears. A thick stream of saline washes down her cheeks. I kiss them away until both our faces are wet. She is gasping for air and I worry she could pass out from the stress and oxygen depravation.

"Katniss I'm here, it's okay. I promise it wasn't real," I say. I find her eyes and pull her in with my gaze.

"Breathe with me love." Together we take a dozen slow deep breaths. I gentle wipe the last of her tears away with my finger tips. But I never look away from her deep grey eyes, the windows to the storm within. The story of the nightmare sits in those same eyes, pain, loss, and regret. Eventually, I adjust her on my lap and lean us both back against the headboard. We are alone now and the room is quiet. The stress of the moment has abated some with her in my presents. The short trip to the house had sent a whirl of fears through me about Katniss's physical state. Although the dream, was causing much pain now, I at least could do something about it. I was never healer of sickness or wounds, but loving Katniss would always be what I was best at. In these moments I could fix the emotional hurt with that love. A power I had been granted by Katniss herself. A right I would never take for granted. It take sometime, but she speaks without me asking.

"At first it was like another lifetime, without the games. We fell in love and you left town to be with me, just like my mother and father. We were just as poor but happy, living in the seam. You worked in the mines for me...to be able to provide for me. Then one day the earth swallowed you whole, just like my father. I stood at the entrance, all alone as cart after cart returned without you...it was so real...I thought it was..." she falls silent. I of course understood completely. After what we had just been through to return here, it must have seemed much to real, much too possible.

"I know. When I woke after the games I couldn't sort it out. I didn't know where I was or what was happening. All I could think was to find you," I tell her.

"But I couldn't get to you. What if I can't get to you? What if this was all a mistake and I lose you?" she says hysterically. She feels responsible for us coming back here, even though we both wished it. I pull her tight to me and press my mouth to her ear.

"I will always be here. I'm not going anywhere you aren't. I promise that it won't happen this time. I won't let them part us. Whatever happens we always stick together. I swear this time we are going to make it all better. It's just going to take a little longer," I whisper. She slackens slightly in my grip. Rational thought is returning and she sees the truth in what I am saying. We had already changed parts of our future.

"Is it bad that I finally want to marry you now so you can hold me at night and we can have sex?" Katniss asks with a ghost of a smirk. I laugh.

"Isn't that why people get married?" I say innocently

"No, they get married to be an example of what is proper," she says, an air of Capitol accent to her voice. I laugh a little more, but sadness still looms over her.

"Don't be sad, that world would never exist," I tell her.

"And how are you so sure?" she asks, failing to keep curiosity out of her voice.

"You would never have stooped to marry someone from town. If it wasn't for the games I wouldn't have had a shot in hell with you Everdeen!" I say. A real smile breaks onto her face at last. And I kiss her gently.

"It has nothing to do with town, you never spoke to me," she says.

"And if I had?" I ask.

"I would have been my usual stubborn self and ignored you or said something defensively, but you would keep trying and you would wear me down. Just like you always do," she says.

"I would do it you know...all of it. Win your love again, leave the bakery, work in the mine, all of it...And we would be happy, as long as I was with you" I say sincerely.

"There you go wearing me down again." She kisses me. It is urgent and building. The kind of kiss that starts more. She wants a different comfort, after such a horrible dream. She wants to feel me on top of her, in her, to express the action of our love and be lost in it. But I must stop us, I don't think my invitation in the Everdeen house will extend that far.

"Do you think it's okay with your mother if I hold you until you fall back to sleep?" I ask after breaking from her.

"Stay," is all she replies. I lay on my back and she comes to her usual spot, one of her small hands still clung to the front of my t-shirt. I am still, other than the arm I run up and down to stroke her hair. She is exhausted and I hear her breathing slow in minutes. Soon her grip on me loosens and I know she is back to sleep. I unwillingly ease myself away and bring the sheet up to her shoulders. I switch the light off and pause in the doorway for one more long moment to watch her. All the stress of the night is gone from her beautiful face. She doesn't stir, but I have to fight the urge not to go back to her. I should be there beside her for the rest of the night, I think bitterly. Mrs. Everdeen pulls me from my thoughts. She is against the far wall of the hall and I wonder if she has been there the whole time listening. I brace myself for her reaction.

"Peeta, may I speak with you down stairs?" she says kindly. It is truly a question, not a demand. I nod and wonder where the change in tone has come from. She leads me down to the kitchen where Prim sits nervously. I try to smile encouragingly at her for Katniss, although I am hesitant what my fait with there mother will be.

"She's better now, Primrose. You can go to sleep now," Mrs. Everdeen caresses the small girls cheek and plants a kiss on her head. "Go on, you have school in the morning." Prim still looks worried, but she complies with her mothers request. Mrs. Everdeen gestures to a chair at the table and takes a seat beside me. We are all alone now.

"Peeta, I just wanted to apologize," she begins, her words throw me.

"I'm sure you don't have anything to apologize to me for," I say

"I haven't been fair to you. When you two came back, I didn't want to see you clearly at first. I wanted to think of you as just a boy, someone immature or careless. Someone who could leave her or hurt her," she pauses, "how ironic when I have not done a very good job of taking care of her before."

"I know I am young but I know what I want and it's to be with Katniss always. I could never hurt her," I tell Mrs. Everdeen.

"I understand that now. You're a man, not a boy and I know you will take care of her. You proved that again tonight. Prim and I tried but she only wanted you. What I am most sorry for is, I think part of me always knew that about you. I could see your commitment to her in the games. I think I just wanted the chance to be a good mother for once. I hoped I could do that now that she had come back. She even seemed willing to have my love now, but it turns out I missed my opportunity years ago. She is a woman now and she doesn't need a mother. She needs the love you give her." Her face is drawn in sorrow.

"We do need each other, Katniss and I, but she will also always need a mom. If she has let go of the past, so should you. She loves you and Prim more than you will ever know. She would give the world to keep you both happy and safe," I reassure her. A tear rolls down her cheek, but she swipes it away and smiles.

"Yes, you are much older and wiser than I gave you credit for," she says with a watery chuckle.

"You really are a good man Peeta. Maybe we can all start to be a family now?" There is a plea in her eyes. She is the one who doesn't want to be cut out.

"I would really like that." I take her hand across the table and she smiles with joy and relief.

It had been a very late night, but I awoke the next morning with renewed energy and a better outlook. Two major obstacles had been overcome. With both the support of Mrs. Everdeen and the departure of my house guests, our other issues seemed a lot easier to handle. Katniss and I had many frustrations, but none where insurmountable if we really tried. Which, ironically, we had not done in the last week or so. Instead we had been passengers to our lives, following the direction of others, staying out of trouble. Certainly I didn't want to bring punishment down on us or our loved ones, but I was suddenly sure their was more we could do to improve our situation. I thought of the patient Haymitch and how he had welded that information from Mr. Franklin. What else had he gotten out of the man last night? Had he divulged what the steel plants might manufacture? We had missed this talk and I was sure Haymitch would not relay it to us now. Next time an opportunity presented it's self we would be ready. We would not be left unaware this time.

Furthermore, my own relief after my talk with Mrs. Everdeen had highlighted just how much stress was caused by others. We could not continue this way. I had won over Katniss's family, but everyone else needed to be on the same page. We had to fight against the Capitol and Snow, I refused to fight family and friends. Katniss and I would be together, so Gale and my mother better learn to deal with it fast. I would have to talk to my family together and my intentions about Katniss would have to be very direct and final. But before that I would figure out how to help Gale's family. Gale's stubbornness was causing the children of the house to go hungry, but they were not the only casualties. Katniss was losing her best friend all over again. In our past life we did not generally speak of Gale from district two, but if Katniss made a list of things she wished to change this time around, I guaranteed her hunting partner would make the list. I still felt that pang of irritation at their closeness, but I would always give Katniss anything and everything her heart desired. Her happiness was my own.

As I turned on the shower, I tried to formulate a plan in my mind. I stepped into the warm stream. I would have to confront him directly, he would ignore any less. I jump a little with a knock at the bathroom door. I poke my head out to find Katniss join me in the bathroom.

"Hi," I say and she answers with a smile. I turn back to the hot water.

"What brings you out so early?" I ask, "not that I mind the company," I add quickly.

"My mother actually," she tells me, "she told me to come check on you and invite you to dinner, since we don't have to entertain guest tonight." I hear a rustling and feel her step in behind me.

"It seemed really important to her," she says it like it's a question.

"We had a talk last night," I say a little evasively. I feel the bar of soap run along my back.

"Really, anything interesting? she asks. Her soapy hands run around my front, lathering my chest. I feel her full breasts press against me.

"I think she will be more understanding about us now," I say, unsure if I should repeat Mrs. Everdeen's confidences to Katniss.

"What changed?" she fishes for more. Her gentle fingers run down my stomach, to where a path of golden hair starts. She focuses her attention here, but goes no further.

"I feel like I am being coerced," I laugh.

"And things will only get better for you Mellark once you just tell me," she teases, not hiding her intentions.

"You are a dangerous woman," I say, "Your mother told me she knows I can take care of you. She wasn't sure of my intentions, but she knows I mean well now. She thinks we can be a family."

"I thought I got the final say on that," she teases.

"You do, but you won't say no. All Everdeen women love me." We both laugh and Katniss tries to push me away playfully, but I turn to grab her. With our chests pressed together now, I harden. I am a teenage boy through and through, but she doesn't tease me for it. Instead she makes good on her promise.

Katniss grips my neck securely and engulfs me in a rough, hot kiss. One of her hands returns to my line of hair, but she moves lower. With confidence, from years of practice, she holds me firmly. Her hands still soapy she runs her it over my tip and down, grazing my base. She twists her fingers a little as she runs back up me and I moan in her mouth. Her lips move to my neck and she sucks and bites just above my collar bone. I steady my self on one wall and watch the water run down her exquisite form. A steady flow runs down her back to the curve of her hips and bottom. The skin is so soft and beautiful, I have to reach out my free hand to touch her there. Her pace on me quickens and I hear her pant a little from her ministrations. The pressure is building and I close my eyes as the pressure gains. I see another situation in my minds eye. Katniss up against this same shower wall as I push into her.

"God, I miss being inside you," I moan. She captures my lips once more and her urgency, her own want unhinges me. Her tongue is persistent in my mouth. She pumps her hand several more time, always brushing her thumb over my slit and I come on her stomach.

"We need to build back up your endurance," she jokes.

"I'm willing to put in the time and dedication if you are," I laugh back. I seal her lips to mine again, but the phone rings downstairs. I am willing to ignore it for other activities, but Katniss insists.

"It's probably Effie and it will just ring until you answer. Besides I won't be able to concentrate on you wondering what she wants," she states with exasperation.

Sure enough it is Effie on the other line. I must be a sight to see. Naked except for the towel wrapped around my waist, standing in the front room of my house, annoyance clear on my face.

"Oh good morning Peeta, I hope I am catching you at a good time," Effie chirps.

"Sure," I muster, because it doesn't really matter that it is not.

"I am happy to report that all the surveyors had a comfortable stay in Twelve with you. The plan for the up coming weeks are being sorted now so I cannot give you a solid time line of events. However, I must tell you that next week, Wednesday, June the first, you will have three very important guests arrive. I am so excited and I think you and Katniss will be pleased, but I simply won't tell you more. Except that they will be with you until the Victors Tour," she says this all very fast.

"Okay Effie. Any special instructions," I say in a monotone. I am not pleased with this 'exciting news' but I should not take it out on Effie. She giggles with delight.

"Oh no. I think you will find your new guests very self sufficient," she giggles more and I almost ask who is coming. No, I think, I don't want to know. In Effie's mind someone exciting could be President Snow himself and extra time knowing this would only bring more stress. "I'll let you inform Haymitch and Katniss since I have so much to do before their arrival. But remember to take my calls."

With a short farewell the call ends and so does my good mood. I find Katniss back upstairs dressed and towel drying her hair. I tell her the relaid message and I see her face fall as well. This reminds me of the promise I have made to myself just this morning. I will not let the stress take away from the joy we have together now.

"Hey, this is going to be okay," I tell her. She looks at me in disbelief. "We are here together with our families, everything else we can work on." She nods and I hold out my arms to her. The embrace is short as she spies the clock by the bed.

"I have to go. I was suppose to pick up some things in the square and get Prim at school, which I'm not even sure I can make if I run," with her words an idea hits me.

"I'll pick up bread for dinner and go to the school for Prim," I offer. She agrees quickly and leaves. I dress fast and finish formulating my plan.

I arrive to the school with several loafs of hot bread in my arms, just as classes are let out. The large brick building houses all of District Twelve's school aged children. It could be a factory from the outside with it's plain walls and dark windows. Even inside you won't find color or light. The only hint that kids might occupy this space is the small swing set in a moderate sized yard by the side. Any youth from five to eighteen will come here to receive their limited education. The year will come to close in days to allow the few children who's families farm to help in their busy season and the overloaded teachers a break. The school yard is busy with activity, but I pick out Prim easily from the crowd. She is standing by a small tree, just where Katniss said she would be.

"Hi, Prim. If it's okay, I came to walk you home. Katniss is picking up some things for dinner. We are all eating together tonight," I explain.

"I would like that," she says to both.

"Prim do you know where Vick and Rory wait for Gale?" I ask. She nods and points to a spot just ten feet away were the the two youngest Hawthorne boys stand side by side. I tell Prim to wait for me and head over to them.

"Hi, I'm Peeta Mellark," I begin.

"We know who you are," Rory answers. He doesn't have the condescending voice that Gale would, more the tone of a boy who find something amusing. I chuckle a little.

"Of course," I say, "I brought you this, it's from the Everdeens." I hand the smaller boy, Vick two loaves of bread. His small hungry eyes widen. For a moment I think I hear his stomach growl. I nod reassuringly and Vick is starting to unwrap it when Gale arrives at his side.

"What are you doing Mellark?" Gale says, his voice thick with annoyance. He looks to his brothers but does not take the bread. Vick hesitates and takes a quick bite. I wait and watch as Vick rips off another piece and hands it to Rory. Gale seethes with anger at me, but he softens slightly at the sight of his brothers.

"I wanted to see if you would actually take it out of their hands?" I tell him. I am angry now too, but I try to keep my voice even. Gale's aggression peaks. Suddenly he has me by my collar, but I'm not backing down, he doesn't scare me.

"That's what you are doing when you and your mother turn away the Everdeen's help. You are taking the food right out of their mouths," I shoot out with some venom.

"You don't know anything about this and you need to stay out of it," he says, but I have seen him pale a little at my words so I plow forward.

"Your right it has nothing to do with me Gale, but you're the one letting Katniss and my relationship hurt your family," he shakes his head in dispute, but I push on, "this is about your friendship with Katniss. You two have always helped each other. And she still owes you a great deal. It's killing her that you are throwing that friendship away now." He has stilled and is absorbing my words now. His grips loosen. He glances back at the boys again. Rory looks scared, probably at the suddenness of Gale's actions.

"Fine, just until I start work," he says gruffly.

"Good," I say, "I'll tell her she can come by tomorrow."

Chapter 21

K POV

I walk slowly on the gravely road. The day is hot and part of me wishes for the cool interior of my Victors home, but I want to savor my freedom. Tomorrow Peeta's new house guest arrive. Though Effie has called back several times to make sure Peeta has all the items needed for his visitors, we have resisted asking who is actually coming. Because no matter who steps off the train tomorrow, I am sure they will make the next few months hell. So instead of focusing on the future, both Peeta and I have been living for each day. The idea, which at first seemed silly, has brought a series of wonderful moments. I know that even if my world crashes down at the site of Capitol officials on the platform, I can cling to the happiness I have found in the last week. I smile as I recall so many perfect memories. Nightly dinners with Prim, my mother, Peeta, and occasionally Darius or Haymitch, filled with laughter. An afternoon nap with Peeta on the couch in his living room. The day Peeta's art supplies arrived for him to paint Prim and lady, the picture now hung on my own living room wall. And of course what I am doing now, my daily walk to the Hawthorne's to visit with Gale and drop off the food Peeta convinced them to take.

When I approach the house, I find Gale on the small front porch writing something out. The stack of papers is thick and he wears a frown of concentration.

"Don't think too hard Hawthorne. You'll wear yourself out before your exams tomorrow," I tell him. He looks up and smiles when he see me, but waves off my comment with a hand.

"I could fail everything at this point and they would pass me. They don't want an old man like me in the school yard," he says. I roll my eyes at the comment, but sit beside him on the steps. I was horrified when Peeta showed up at my home with the story of Gale and his confrontation. After than I was sure, no matter what Peeta said, that Gale would never take anything from me. I was blissfully wrong. Peeta, as only Peeta could do, had knocked some sense into Gale. Our first interactions were slightly awkward, but he excepted the food with grace and a 'thank you'. As days past, we had slowly fallen into a pattern. It felt a little like the old times, even now I felt like we could be sitting in the woods together, able to say anything. Of course one big thing was different. I loved Peeta, we would be together and nothing could change that. Gale knew this, but I worried he still loved me beyond friendship. The day prior he had told me as much when the topic of the original Peeta, Gale argument came up.

"He had a lot of balls talking to me like that. I really thought I was going to hit him, but then he always makes too much sense. I really think I would like the kid if he wasn't the bakers son and if...well if it wasn't for you," he had told me. I didn't reply, just like in the hallway of my house, I couldn't find words. What did you say to someone who loved you, but you didn't love in return, at least not in the romantic way? Furthermore, I couldn't figure out how to accurately play the role of sixteen year old Katniss without either leading him on or completely denying him. I had berated the younger version of myself for my indecision, but I was having just as hard a time sorting out my past feelings with the benefit of years of growth. In the end the topic had dropped. And later, after much thought, I had decided that Gale was getting over me slowly. The best thing to do was continue on as I was and do my best to be decisive about my preference for Peeta.

"What are you working on?" I ask him, my mind back in the present.

"I got these from the mayor's office today," he shakes the stack of papers at me, "they are the forms you have to fill out to be considered for one of the government construction jobs," he explains.

"You want to build houses?" I inquire.

"Maybe. I don't really want to work for the government, but I heard even the mines will be run by them soon. And building houses would definitely beat working in the mines. But they have other plans, or so they say. They may ask me to work on something else," he shrugs, "I heard they pay well." I am amazed at the information Gale has collected on the governments plans, just by word of mouth. Could he have heard something I hadn't yet?

"You are just full of information today. What else have you heard?" I try to sound casual. He shrugs again.

"Not much," he pauses to fill in a line on the paper in front of him. He catches my impatient expression and laughs.

"Just kidding," he says, "I've only heard a few other things. There has been a lot of talk about the new 'allowances'. People are not sure if they should believe it. They are excited about the five year tesserae, but are not exactly jumping to get married or have kids."

"What about the lack of birth control, surely that is pushing some people along," I say

"There has been a lot of talk about that as well. I hear they are selling home remedies in the Hob, though I am sure they don't work, and people have come up with all kinds of other methods. The boys at school and mine workers talk about it constantly," he explains. My own interest is peaked by this particular topic, but I could never take a chance so great. If what Gale says is true, I fear it is only a matter of time before we have a public whipping.

"It sounds like people are being so reckless," I tell him with genuine concern.

"I would agree, but some people, especially some of the guys at school, act like they can't control themselves," he stares at me for a moment, looking for something in my eyes. His face is full of worry. It hits me, he is wondering about Peeta and me. Right now he is imagining me in his head with another man and hoping for my own safety, that I am still a virgin. Maybe hoping it for himself as well. I blush and look down, but I think he has caught me because he speaks again quickly on another topic.

"The men working on the houses by Victor's Village say that Peace Keepers are scheduled to move into some of the completed units. But they are still working around the clock and they estimate at the rate they are going there will be many more homes than needed for the law enforcement we have now. There has been speculation on who else may fill the houses. Some have openly hoped the government will offer them to larger families in the district. However, the two most likely cases are that either more Peace Keepers or Capitol officials will fill them," he continues.

"Haven't you heard, that's what Peeta's extra rooms are for," I say bitterly. He laughs a little.

"I had actually. And I gotta say I feel bad. Word is more are arriving tomorrow and it will be an extended stay. He must be pulling his hair out," Gale sympathizes.

"No, Peeta is dealing with it just as he always does. Not much can shake him," I explain, "Anything else you know, Mr. information." He shifts awkwardly.

"Just one..." I wait for him to continue. "Since your win in the games everyone, the Capitol and District Twelve, have been planning your wedding to Mellark. I didn't believe it until yesterday. You have this look in your eyes when I say something about him..." he laughs "you're making the same face now." I try to assess my own expression, but I can't find what Gale is seeing.

"What I don't know is, what happened to the girl in the woods, the one who was never getting married?" Gale asks. I know he is speaking of the day of the reaping, but I flicker back to the memory of Peeta and I by the lake. I had almost said the same words to him. But so much had changed since both of these days, it was hard to think about, more or less explain. Why was Gale asking, I thought this was cleared up yesterday and weeks ago. Maybe I was relying too much on silence to fill in my answers. I wished Peeta could have this conversation for me. Even if it would be uncomfortable for all parties, at least he would say it better. But I am the only one here with Gale and this may be the last time we can have a private conversation for many months. I steady myself and explain.

"Sitting with you that day, I really thought I would never get married. Even now the idea is scary. But I love Peeta more than even I realize sometimes. It's not that he is a better man than someone else, more that he is better for me. We work well together, he is patient with my stubbornness. I want to be with him and if Panem wants me to marry him, I will," I hope he hears my words and takes them to heart. Gale would have been my choice if there was never a Peeta. He is not a bad man, quite the opposite. But we are not meant for each other. I think fleetingly of a woman for Gale, someone patient and kind like Peeta, but strong enough to tell him when he is wrong. He is watching the ground now. He looks defeated. I know this is a good sign, it means he is accepting my words, but I feel an ache in my chest and my fragile teenage hormones urge me to embrace him. I resist and finish my words.

"There is a Mrs. Hawthorne out there who is everything you never knew you were looking for," I tell him. He scowls at the idea and I think our time together must come to an end. "I have to get back. Unfortunately I have Capitol guests to prepare for." We end with some tense good byes and I promise to try to come visit again soon. As I turn from the house I find tears in my own eyes. The pull to run back and fix things is great, but I surge forward. If my explanation was clear enough this time, I think Gale can move on. Any signs of weakness on my part would only give him hope and delay his pain. I hadn't counted on this part being so difficult or sad. Being young was hard.

I wiped away all traces of distress before I got home. Peeta did not need to be exposed to this weakness either. He was the hero in my story, I would not make him feel like the bad guy or my second choice. I would be a willing participant in our love story this time. I would not let him think someone was forcing my hand, even though Snow was. Peeta had waited far beyond the eleven years, the rest of the world knew about, to marry me. I would return his vows with certainty.

That evening was like the calm before the storm. It was one more magical memory before the train arrived. We ate dinner together, like a family, My mother, Prim, Peeta and I. After a perfect dessert Peeta had brought from the bakery, Prim had the idea to teach Peeta how to milk Lady. Peeta's large hands couldn't quite get the hang of it, but the action did succeed in bringing about several rounds of laughter from all the Everdeens. And finally, Peeta and I shared a perfect sunset on the porch swing. When he left for home, I felt the storm beginning and I broke down to asked Prim to sleep in my bed. I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts of the next day. She clung to me through the night and when sleep did find me, it was peaceful.

All too soon I found myself at the familiar train station. Peeta and I stood hand and hand for support, with Haymitch at our side. Haymitch did not try to hide his contempt for the surprise to come. He had not showered that morning and the coffee cup he held onto was mostly white liquor. But he had agreed to come, so that would have to be enough for Effie. The train pulled in and came to a stop. I held my breath and an array of half a dozen men stepped out. One man wore the proper attire of an official, but the rest were dressed more plainly. Most wore slacks and button up shirts. This would be reaping clothes for the working men of our district. They looked to be middle aged, but had strong builds. Their faces were serious and I couldn't help but think they would not make any better company that Mr. Franklin. At the end of their cue I caught a glimpse of bright purple and Effie Trinket came into view. I smiled in spite of myself. The annoying, yet cheerful face, was a relief to see. If Effie was here she could at least fill the dinner conversation for us.

"Peeta, Katniss, Mr. Abernathy, it's so wonderful to see you," she beams, "let me introduce you to our new visitors." It takes a while to make it through the small crowd and the men look tired and bored of her antics, but Effie insists. It turns out the men before us are indeed working men, or rather contractors for around Panem. Effie explains that they are here to help with the construction and planning. Each man has a speciality, which she lists off: lumber, construction, agriculture, water lines, mining, and live stock. I don't find a steel worker in the bunch, but imagine this may not be something Effie is privy to. The formally dressed man is introduced as Mr. Wells. Effie simply labels him as the project manager. I don't like this man already. He is much younger than the other men, but commands the kind of respect that comes with authority. He inspects his immediate area and does not appear to like what he sees. I can only imagine all the plans this 'project manager' has for District Twelve. The frown is plain on his face and he ignores us completely. His dark, lethal looking eyes remind me eerily of President Snow. I shudder when I think of him sleeping in the same house as my Peeta. I don't have too much time to worry, because Effie throws us another curve ball.

"Mr. Wells and the workers will be staying in one of the other Victor's homes, that has yet to be occupied. Haymitch, would you be so kind to show these men to their cars, so I can retrieve the rest of our visitors," Effie chirps. Haymitch straitens at the sight of Mr. Wells. This is not a man who will take kindly to a drunken Haymitch. The coffee cup is passed to Peeta and Haymitch pulls on his fake Capitol smile to usher the men away.

Before I can muster the energy to worry more, Cinna and Portia appear through the train door. They are so beautiful, even here in the slums of Twelve. Cinna especially, with his broad smile, dark skin and trademark gold eyeliner. I am overcome with joy and relief. I don't trust my eyes or my assessment of the situation. Surely these cannot be our company. It would be too wonderful.

"Are you my house guests?" Peeta speaks with awe.

"We are," says Portia. Her and Cinna laugh at our expressions.

"Would you prefer Mr. Wells?" Cinna asks innocently. I close the distance and throw my arms around him.

"I'm so happy it's you!" I say

"I've never lived anywhere but the Capitol," I hear Portia say, "I'm excited to be here. Do something different."

"Oh I think you'll find it pretty different," Peeta exclaims. We all laugh together. Peeta and I with such great relief, Portia and Cinna, perhaps, with nerves.

Our combined merriment extends all the way to lunch. Cinna and Portia appear to be genuine in there excitement to be here. I hope District Twelve does not let them down. Haymitch, upon returning from a neighboring house complains loudly to Effie about her pushing all her work off on him. She assures him she will attend to the other guest from now on and I feel another weight lift off me. After more welcomes, I catch Haymitch whisper something to Cinna and they nod conspiratorially. I know better than to ask now, but Haymitch has unwillingly given me a door to the information I want. If Haymitch had confided any information in Cinna, I could at least get that out of him. Not that Cinna was weak, or easy to fool. More that he treated me like an adult, instead of the silly child Haymitch would see in me sometimes. We had no Chef this time to cater to our needs, but Peeta happily took to the kitchen to assemble our meal. We dined simply on sandwiches on fresh bread and hand squeeze lemon aid, but Peeta received numerous complements.

"Now that we are all assembled and fed I have much to tell you," announces Effie.

"Give it a rest woman, you've been ringing our phones off the hook for weeks," Haymitch complains.

"Yes, Haymitch, but there is a lot more to tell you now and it affects all of us," she explains patiently. The news must be exciting if she is able to stay so calm with our mentor. He pulls a flask from his pocket, but waves her on.

"First, I would like to announce we have all been invited back to the Undersee's for dinner tonight. The contractors are unable to join us, with there busy schedule, but the Mayor wanted a chance to introduce himself to Cinna and Portia, since they will be staying so long." she tells us. I wonder if it was really a request of the Mayors or a heavy suggestion from Effie.

"Secondly, I must tell you that he official, televised ground breaking of District Twelve's Growth and Family Development Program will be in two short days. Mr. Wells and his men have a few loose notes to tie up before the country can see us here in Twelve, but it will give the six of us time to brush ourselves up for the nation." she looks to Haymitch, "I will coach you independently on what is expected of you in front of the cameras." I am sure alcohol does not make the list.

"Including the ground breaking there will be four or five other broad casts of activities going on here. Each segment will include Katniss and Peeta showing the citizens the good happening here." There was no need to ask about Haymitchs' involvement, Panem and Snow wanted to see there new celebrity couple, not the drunk victor.

"Portia, Cinna, and I will stay with Peeta, here in his home and help with all necessary preparation for each event, whether appearance or scripting lines. Further, we will also be here to help you with your talents as we work up to the Victors Tour. I have lists here, specifically compiled by the President's office," in a flurry she pulls two sheets of paper out of a bag at her side and pushes them across the table to us. I barely look down before she barrels on.

"And finally, the most exciting news! I have been simply dying to share this with all of you, but I was sworn to secrecy because they didn't want it getting out too soon. But the President will speak to the nation after the airing of the ground breaking, so I think it is safe to say now," she takes a deep steadying breath and presses her palms on the table as if for support, "The Victors Tour will begin early in just a few short months. We all leave September first for District Eleven."

"Why," I say bluntly.

"I'm happy you asked. President Snow felt there was so much going on this year with the Quell and the district projects, it made more sense to move it up. Besides, the added time allows you and Peeta to highlight progress in other districts when you tour them. Of course this short time line means you and Peeta both will have to work extra hard to fine tune your talents," she tells us. My eyes return to my list. It is shorter than the one I remember, but just as ridiculous. Sewing, cooking, and gardening... Peeta nods at my side, I spy his own list. It is just as short, but much more convenient for him. Baking, painting, and public speaking, are all natural abilities for Peeta, he could pick any and excel.

"Effie I can't pick any of these," I tell her, lightly tossing the paper aside.

"Well traditionally, as Victor, you would pick one talent of your choice to work at, but this year the Capitol has decided to go in another direction," she tells me, "they wish to stick with the theme of the traditional family. And doing so, Snow has asked that you learn each of these skills as an example to the young women of Panem." I am speechless. It all comes back to the example Peeta and I are suppose to portray. Again I feel like I am being set up for failure. Could Snow secretly know all my flaws and be exploiting each one? It seemed like something he could do, but it seemed like a lot of work on his part when he could just kill or torture me. I see Peeta's list out of the corner of my eye and irritation rises in me. Why did Peeta get off so easily? I was about to spend hours and hours failing horribly at each of my skills and he could go on air today and whip together a cake or painting blindfolded. Peeta knowingly squeezes my hand under the table.

"I'll help you," he says sincerely. My anger abates. This is not his fault and I know he would learn it all for me if he could. At least if he doesn't have to practice his skills he will have the time to help with mine. Cinna also looks at me reassuringly.

"If I can't teach you to sew in time, I can at least teach you to fake it," he smiles. They must have seen the lists ahead of time. Maybe his help was planned from the start. If Cinna was prepared, the sewing part might be okay. Like last time, he might have all the work done. And then all I'll have to do is wonder around pointing at things I have 'sewn myself'.

Apparently, the day's surprises have come to an end because Effie pushes Peeta and I off to Portia and Cinna respectively and orders Haymitch home to bathe before our dinner plans. Cinna escorts me to his new 'prep area', one of the large guest rooms on the second floor, with an a joining bathroom. The room is already full of rack after rack of clothing, mostly women's, but there is space set aside specifically for manicuring me. Cinna works quickly and quietly at first, preparing my hair and face. When he gets to my legs, he has to do some convincing, but in the end I allow them to be waxed. We share a laugh, thinking of my prep team and what they would say about my eyebrows. As he grooms me, I am distracted. A million question run through my mind. So much new information has presented it's self today. But I am no closer to seeing President Snow's motives. Somethings had not really been that shocking to me. My plan list of skill or the video coverage they wanted us to take here at home and in other districts, for example. These I could understand. It all played in perfectly with the model he was trying to build of Peeta and I, not to mention the 'generosity' he was showing off. What had me baffled was the new time line. Why move up the tour? As far as I could remember the neither the games or any event surrounding them had been altered. What was so pressing now? I think Haymitch would understand why, but would never say. I could try asking Cinna, he at least knew some of what Haymitch did. But now in a Victors home was not the time. I would have to get in out of him soon though.

A short time later I find myself in a beautiful orange summer dress and short matching high heels. My hair has been smoothed out again, but he allows a loose braid and my face is almost clear except for a tint of color on my lips and a hint of Cinna's own gold eyeliner on my lids. Cinna assesses me for a moment, proclaims me gorgeous and send me down stairs as he gets ready. Peeta is handsome in a crisp white shirt and black slacks. His soft satin tie matches my dress perfectly. He smiles eagerly at me when I join him in the hall.

"You look beautiful," he says, "just like a perfect sunset." I reward him with a kiss. We are joined soon by the rest of our group. Haymitch is the last to arrive and looks the least put together. Effie looks exasperated, but his focus is stolen when only one car arrives for us.

"I specifically asked the Mayor for two," she pouts, "we can't all fit and we should arrive together."

"How would you normally get to the Mayors house Katniss?" Cinna asks reasonable.

"We would walk, just like we do everywhere," I answer.

"Well then, I can walk too," Cinna states. Effie does not like the idea at all, but time is short and she does not want to be tardy either. Finally with some coaxing with her, she agrees. Peeta, Cinna, and I volunteer first to walk. Haymitch tries to join, but Effie, probably worrying he will just return home, insists he rides with her and Portia. Both Peeta and Cinna offer an arm to me and we head off, all linked together. It is a nice evening and I would be content to enjoy it in silence, but I don't want to miss this opportunity.

"Cinna, how is the Capitol?" I hedge.

"Same as ever I suppose," he answers with a smile. I worry he thinks I am just making small talk.

"Why did they move the Victor's tour?" I ask boldly, "we can talk for now, walking like this is the safest way to have a real conversation here," I add. He looks to me and then Peeta, a question on his mind.

"Peeta and I share everything," I tell him. He nods in understanding.

"The Capitol is reacting very peculiar to the two of you and all this talk about family. There is less talk and excitement about the Quell than past games. I don't know exactly why the change of dates has occurred but I think they are hoping the kill two birds with one stone," he leaves the explanation open ended. Peeta understands before I do.

"So they want to marry us off sooner and turn the attention back to the games?" Peeta questions.

"It's just a guess, but that's what I think," Cinna says, "unless..." he stops his thought as if he has said too much.

"Cinna please tell me," I almost beg.

"I don't really know more, just what Haymitch has alluded to. He asked me once, when you were in the games, if I was sympathetic to the situations in the districts. I told him I was. He said there was something bigger coming that would change Panem for the better, but it had nothing to do with the Capitol. I was in immediately. But he has been less forthcoming since. Just today, he told me again that things were coming together and all would make sense in time. The only other piece I have been able to gather was after the last interview when Snow came to talk to you, Haymitch and I listened to every word at the door. It didn't make a lot of sense to me at the time, but I heard Haymitch say under his breath 'so he wants to build up his man power'. I think that might be part of it, that Snow really does want to increase the population," Cinna ends as the Undersee's home nears.

"Don't feel bad," I say lightly, "Peeta got almost the same speech. I guess we all just have to wait on Mr. Abernathy."

Dinner is a more sedate than our last meal together, in fact if it wasn't for Cinna and Madge carrying on a conversation over the table about fashion and sporadic polite comments from Effie, we would all sit in silence. Mrs. Undersee excused herself early, citing a migraine, while Mr. Undersee sat looking surreally and sharing wine with Haymitch. When the dinner plates were cleared away an excited Madge invited Cinna and I up to her room to see some design ideas. Madge's drawing were beautiful and Cinna complimented them openly, critiquing them in detail. I would have though he was just being kind, but he went so far as to help her manufacture a dress for me together for the Victor's tour.

"We'll have Katniss introduce it as your design, of course. And maybe it will peak the interest of some shops in the Capitol," Cinna tells her.

"Really? Do you think it could?" Madge says hopefully.

"I do. Come by to help me with Katniss's sewing skills at the end of the week, I think the three of us could make a good team," Cinna smiles and Madge beams back. A loud beep issues from the next room. Madge turns her head momentarily, but I am already out the door. I remember this sound from a distant memory. It's meant to alert the Mayor to urgent breaking news and it should be seen by him alone, but I find myself in front of the scene before Madge can stop me. There are no pictures, just a simple message, I read it and my heart stops.

KEEP ALL GUESTS IN HOME UNTIL 2100. BLACK MARKET DUE TO BE RAIDING AND BURNED AT 2000. MORE INSTRUCTION ON DISTRICT PRESS BRIEFING TO FOLLOW.

I feel an arm on me and turned to find Madge, her expression worried not mad.

"We have half an hour," she said without pause. We hurry down the steps, though I don't know what I am planning to do. Peeta is in the hallway entering the kitchen, he smiles at us.

"Madge your father asked me to get the dessert, can you show me were it is?" he says. I grab him as my feet hit the first floor and pull him roughly to me, my lips to his ear. He is full of shock, but listens intently to my words.

"They are going to destroy the Hob tonight. Burn it to the ground again. In just a half an hour they will be there. We have to warn them. I don't think the Peace Keepers will let them live," I explain in a rushed whisper. Peeta is tensed and ready to spring, but Madge stops us.

"Wait, I have a plan," she whispers. She strolls calmly into the next room and I hear her speak.

"Father, I'm sorry the dessert didn't get picked up from the Bakery today. Should we send Katniss and Peeta to get it?" she says politely.

"Whatever is fine," says the Mayor, uncaring.

"Oh no," Effie shrills, "if we send them both, they'll never come back. Let Peeta run over." Peeta looks into my eyes. Time is running out and I must decide if I will let him go. There is no way I can leave now unnoticed, but he at least could use this alibi.

"Katniss, Cinna, come join us," Effie calls from the dining room. He hesitates. He will not break the promise he made just nights ago, without me agreeing first. I faulter, my fear for him consuming me. He can do it, I think suddenly. He is so much faster with two legs, that I might actually slow him down in heels. Even if he is seen, Peeta is such a smooth talker, he could come up with a story. I think of Greasy Sae and her grand daughter... I nod to him. He presses his lips fleetingly to mine and rushes from the house. I feel the loss at once.

We join the table. Cinna and Madge expertly start conversation again, discussing their plans for a dress for me. I try to smile and nod at the right moments, but all I can think of is Peeta. And I can't help but wonder if, like in the quell, by allowing us to be split, I have once again made the biggest mistake of my life...


	6. Section 6

Time does not heal all wounds. After the war Katniss struggles to move forward and embrace a new life with Peeta, but can't overcome the ghosts of her past. Will the chance to go back result in a better future or end with the same results?

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. This story was created solely for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

A big thank you to all the people who have reviewed. I love the encouragement and love to hear what you think. **PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

**SEE THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE FOR NEWEST CHAPTER :)**

**P.S. The end of this section is meant for mature readers only!**

Chapter 22

P POV

I sprinted at my top pace through the deserted streets. My strong, young legs, carrying me quickly. The night air was cooling and the humidity had dropped, but sweat poured down me. The town whipped by as I neared the edge of the seam and my target. How much time had passed? Would I make it before the Peace Keepers? My breathing turned to a pant, but the night grew darker, I didn't dare stop. How many lives were waiting on me? I rounded on last corner and my goal was in sight.

I had never been into the Hob, but I knew the building, and even lit by only a single candle at it's front, I found it easily. The large brick building, darkened black by the coal it once held, stood several yards apart from the nearest homes. I didn't pause, but through the door open and tunneled in to a wide open market. The area seemed even bigger on the inside. Carts and tables packed along the walls and down the middle of the room, making paths. Even at the late hour shoppers and sellers wandered around. There could be more than a hundred people here now, I thought with a jolt. My heart pounded, I struggled to collect myself from my journey. The sales people closest turned to watch me but it took a moment before words could come.

"You have to leave now! Peace Keepers are coming!" I tried to shout, still winded. One man near by heard the urgency in my voice and left without further provocation, but many others questioned me. What was I talking about? Who was coming? What did the Peace Keepers want? Time was wasting. My eyes flew around to find some kind of platform. I settled for the nearest table. I scrambled to mount it, knocking merchandise to the ground and sending shouts of anger my way. I ignored them and took a deep breath.

"You have to leave now! Peace Keepers are coming to burn the building to the ground! They won't care if you are still inside!" my scream echoed slightly before chaos broke out. I stayed planted on the table at the front as people surged forward around me. Some left everything and ran, others desperately grabbed at there goods. As soon as the first people moved towards the door I found myself trapped in my spot. I watched for an opening to exit, but people pushed to the door so tightly I was forced to wait more. The large building was clearing fast, but stragglers remained. One girl farthest back, still struggles to collect several bunches of wild flowers. I could see her well from my vantage point and though I tried to look away, my eyes drew back to her. I realized with a start, she looked like Katniss. Not as beautiful, but similar dark hair, olive skin and dark eyes. She was a seam girl too. I see my opening in the crowd, but I push myself against the flow of traffic. I have to kick aside several stands, which have tumbled in the wake of the crowd. I reach the girl. She is still trying to collect her goods, as a loud bang issues from the other side of the back wall. She is visibly shaking and drops the contents of her arms. I grab her securely so she will understand my words are command, not an offer.

"We have to go now," I demand of her. I don't hear her reply. The same back wall, just to my left is tumbling down. Screams issue from all around and a wall of fire pushes out toward us. I feel the burn that scalds my arm and the girl in front of me is thrown to the ground. Loose brick surounds us and a haze of ash fills the air. I respond on instinct. Pulling the girl with me I lunge forward. I struggle over the debris that litters the ground, but I can't see well enough it avoid in on the way back. The girl complies and follow with out further instruction. We quickly join the back of the crowd toward the door. I push hard against the people ahead of me, urging them through the narrow opening. I can practically reach out to touch the door frame, when another explosion is heard. This time on the other side of the doors. More screams issue from the outside. The crowd pushes back into the building, almost knocking us down. There is panic all around.

"No," I try to yell, "we have to get out. They'll lock us in." The desperation is thick in my voice. I still have one hand latched tightly to the girls arm, she gives a sob of terror. She also understands what these people have not seen yet. This is a trap, they want to dispose of us neatly inside this burning building. I rally myself and push forward with all my strength. I did not survive the games twice and the war to die tonight. I had promised Katniss I wasn't going anywhere... I find the doorway and drag the girl through behind me.

The night is alight with flames. Still the scene is mottled and hard to make out at first. The wall we have just passed under is burning and ready to go. Relief at exiting the building washes over me for an instant before I my eyes clear the smoke, and I see what is waiting for us. I know what had the others tempted to literally run back into a burning building. The crowd before me is met by a wall of Peace Keepers. They carry heavy clubs and are making their way through the crowd swinging. People fall to the ground as the clubs meet heads and backs. Some people already lay in small pools of their own blood. The crowd is desperate to get away. People scramble, most moving south toward the seam homes, but they are met by more Peace Keepers. My stomach drops with a new fear. Just to the back, standing close to the nearest house stands Mr. Wells. He is surveying the activities with a smile on his face. I don't hesitate long enough to be seen. I gain my bearings to head towards town and we run again. At first it is difficult getting past the crowd, but I am fast and the girl is able to keep pace with my moves. I find a path, blissfully unblocked and press forward. I am almost free to the open street, when I feel another sharp pain hit my right shoulder. I fall to the dirt. Bringing the girl with me. I don't see who has hit me. Maybe they have moved onto another target already? I try to gain my feet, without irritating the new injury.

"What are you doing? Get out of hear!" someone shouts. I roll and gain my feet. Darius O'Maley is staring at the girl with me.

"I said run!" he shouts again at her. We comply. And ignoring the pains in both my arms, I go until I can see the Mayors house. I stop and pant then.

"How did you know they were coming?" the girl speaks for the first time. Her voice is raspy from the ash, but clear. I answer with the shake my head. I look at her properly for the first time. She is even less like my Katniss now in the light of the moon. Her dark hair is more red than normal for the seam and her eyes brown. She is older than me, but she can be no more than eighteen. My eyes wonder over to the slight curve of her stomach, and I do not regret the effort it has taken to save her. She will have a family waiting for her and this child at home. She sees me and hastily brushes her shirt to cover the bump. I ignore the gesture and assess her state. She did not make it out unscathed. She has burns along the right side of her body and her head bleeds from being knocked into the gravel. She needs medical attention, but I must return to the Undersee's.

"Do you know who Mrs. Everdeen is?" I ask in a rush. She nods.

"Good. Go to her house, they live in Victors Village number two. She'll help you and I'll be there soon." She nods again and heads off into the night. She is awfully trusting of a stranger. But then again, I did just save her life. Also, I am probably not strange to her at all. I am a Victor and even people in the seam must know my name now. The idea is not a happy one. I think of the crowd and the Peace Keepers and Mr Wells... What would happen if they knew I was there? I had a feeling this did not exactly fit into Snow's plan for me as the 'example to the youth of Panem'.

I hold my breath and ease the front door of the Undersee's home open. Haymitch is waiting in the hall to greet me. He must have seen through our charade. His eyes widen at my appearance. Only then do I stop to consider my own state. The left side of my shirt is mostly torn away. My arm has a long angry looking burn. I am covered in soot and dirt. Haymitch grabs me roughly by the right arm. I jab my fist in my mouth to keep quiet as the pain shoots from my shoulder. He pulls me to the sink in the empty kitchen.

"What the hell did you do boy?" he shakes his head and turns on the tap.

"Wash your face and take off that shirt," he orders as he unbuttons his own. I scrub at my skin as best I can and Haymitch tosses me a towel.

"You better hope to God you weren't seen," he says with gritted teeth. I push my arms gingerly through the sleeves of his shirt and he helps me button it back up. It's a little big, but it is at least white like my former one. Haymitch balls my shirt in his hand.

"Are you ok?" he says, concern coming through now.

"Yes," I say with a weak voice. He smiles.

"Great. Take that cake with your good arm and follow my lead," he pulls his flask from his pants pocket. "You found me outside and I am too drunk for dessert. You will take me home yourself." I don't have a 'good' arm, so I use the burned one, because my right shoulder protests at the pressure. My throat is very dry and I feel a round of coughing coming. I swallow hard and lead the way to the next room. Haymitch falls into character and stubbles behind me to the dining room.

"Sorry for the wait," I announce my arrival cheerfully. I hear the strain as I speak, but don't think others will. Katniss stands at the sight of me. I try to reassure her with my eyes, while I set down the cake.

"Oh good dessert is served," Effie thrills, "Haymitch, Peeta, won't you join us?" Haymitch clutches the table dramatically with her words. His eyes lull a little and he smile stupidly at her.

"Actually Effie, I think the night has come to an end for our Mr. Abernathy. I think I should walk him home." Effie looks to Haymitch with disgust.

"If he must go..." she leaves open her words. "I will bring the others with me." She gives a meaningful look to Katniss and she sits in defeat. Katniss' eyes still trying to see through me, to my thoughts.

"We will part then. Mr. Undersee, Madge, thank you for another beautiful evening." I bow and we make our exit. The adrenaline has worn off and I feel every ounce of pain in my body. The coughing begins as soon as I can get the front door closed. My legs are sore from my run, but the pace we take is fast. My stomach turns and I think I will vomit. Haymitch, sensing my defeat, winds an arm around my waist to support me. I continue to gag, but Haymitch only quickens his pace. Being seen like this now would make me as guilty as standing in the middle of the Hob. I need to get to Mrs. Everdeen.

"What happened," he's words are not a question but a command.

"Peace Keepers are burning the Hob to the ground as we speak. I got there in time to warn the people, but they tried to push us back in. They came after the crowd with clubs. I don't think the new law enforcement care who had to die tonight. Mr. Wells was there. I guess he's doing a little more than just project managing. I grabbed a girl and ran." I say breathlessly.

"Where you seen?" he says tersely.

"No," I say though I am not as confident as my words. At least Darius knew I was there. Who else might have seen?

"How did you know it was happening," he orders again.

"I didn't," I say, "it was Katniss." He nods, but looks stern again.

"Listen to me now son. If no one saw you and these are all the scrapes you get, you are lucky. If you ever pull something like that again, we'll all be dead," he tells me.

"We couldn't let them all burn, Haymitch. Not if we knew," I say with defiance. His eyes narrow, sizing me up.

"Bad times are coming and there will be a point when you will have to choose between what is right and the safety of your family. Tonight you chose what you thought was right. As I said, you got lucky with only a few bumps, but in the future you need to think about that girl you so adamantly love. Is the girl you saved tonight worth Katniss' life." He's statements leave me silenced. I realize he is done berating me now, that this last note was a genuine life lesson from Haymitch. I will have to consider his words carefully, but I am too hurt and too tired to think more tonight.

Haymitch takes me to Mrs. Everdeen, she is not surprised to see me, but looks me over nervously. My coughing has subsided, but my chest and every other part of my body aches. She strips me of Haymitch's shirt and my t-shirt. My right arm is getting stiff and I am grateful when she pulls ice from the freezer. She examines the damage, having me lift and turn my arm in several direction. She pushes painfully on my shoulder blade for a moment, feeling the structure underneath. I grimace, but bite my tongue.

"It's bruising already," she sighs, "but nothing is broken and your shoulder is still in it's joint." She instructs Haymitch to apply the cold compress as she turns to my other arm.

"Does this still hurt," she asks as she touches a damp cloth to the reddened area. I hiss in reply. "That's good. The skin can be saved." After leading me to a stool next to the island countertop, she turns to her cabinets, pulling down various ingredients.

I notice Prim is working on the girl at the kitchen table. Prim makes the perfect nurse, with steady hands and confident gestures. There is no note of child in her voice when she explains her treatments to the girl. Prim is a professional. The girl looks dirty and tired, but she is a willing patient. I can only imagine what services like this cost in town. The care of her wounds is a privilege, not a right, and this seam girl, is treating it so. The gash on her head has been cleaned and Prim is delicately inserting a stitch into it. As the small needle punctures her skin, she closes her eyes, but remains remarkably still. This is a woman used to discomfort. I wonder again about the husband waiting for her. Was he there in the Hob also?

I hear the door slam open, we all jump. But it is Katniss who finds us in the kitchen. She is alone, presumably having left our guest next store to join me here. Even though she is still dressed and make-upped from the evenings event, she seems undone. I find her eyes. They are brimming with worry and unshed tears. She comes to me with urgency but doesn't touch me at first. She is looking me over, like her mother, assessing my injuries. She must find no faults with my head, because after a moment she grabs my face and kisses me full on the mouth and then rests her forehead on mine.

"What happened?" she asks. But Haymitch shakes his head, reminding us that it is not the time or place to divulge that kind of information.

"I shouldn't have let you go. The second you were out of my sight I couldn't stand it." She lightly traces the curve of my cheeks with her fingers in a rhythmic way. I don't know if she is trying to calm me or her.

"I'm ok," I say softly, trying to reassure her.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" she asks. I am not hiding the grimace well.

"I've had worse," I say. I hear the tell tale twisting of a cap and Haymitch pushed the open flask between our noses. Katniss pulls back, but nods to me encouragingly. I take a small sip.

"No Peeta," she says "take it all. You need it." I don't argue and I quickly drain the remains of the container. It burns on the way down, but I feel the warmth starting in my hands already. I hand the flask back to Haymitch and he gives it an experimental stir.

"I'll have to run home for some more for you and the girl," he says nodding toward the table.

"No, Haymitch. She can't drink, she's pregnant," I tell him. Katniss looks from me for the first time and sees the girl. Mrs. Everdeen is at her side and is applying coats of freshly mixed ointment to her arm. The whole room goes still.

"Ella..." Katniss says in recognition, the girl looks up at us, horror in her eyes. They know each other, but why is she so scared? Ella suddenly curls in on herself. She is trying to hide, but she makes her stomach more apparent with the movement. Katniss's face mirrors the girls horror now. Mrs. Everdeen gasps. My mind is slowing with the alcohol and I can't make since of the happenings here.

"You're far along, aren't you?" Mrs. Everdeen asks, examining the height and size of the bump with her eyes and hand. Ella doesn't answer, but nods as her gaze turns to the floor.

"Eight months?" Mrs. Everdeen asks. Ella nods again. I try to understand the picture in front of me. The girl with barely a bump was due to give birth in just a few weeks. I examine her small frame and understand. The child inside her was starving, just like the ones in our world. Prim must think the same thoughts I am, because she rushes to the counter and brings a full loaf of bread back to the girl. Ella ignores it, but looks to Mrs. Everdeen with sudden intensity.

"Can you help me?" she says in a whisper.

"I have delivered many children," Mrs. Everdeen assures her. But Ella shakes her head.

"No, if I leave the child here, will you take care of it?" she says desperately. There is silence.

"I'll leave it at the door and you can tell the Peace Keepers you found it. It's horrible to ask, but I can't let them grow up in the children's home." she pleads. Still no one speaks.

"Please, please... I have no options now..." Ella cries out, large tears and sobs rolling from her. The woman who stoically took injury after injury tonight, breaks over the thoughts of her unborn child. Mrs. Everdeen embraces the woman, but no answer is given. Was her situation so horrible at home that she was willing to leave her child? Hadn't the government allowed her husband and her to take the five year tesserae?

There is another loud bang from the front hall and this time Darius arrives. The club he still carries, is dropped at his side with disgust. I wonder fleetingly if he was the Peace Keeper who hit me. If so it must of been by mistake. He was the one to let us go, after all. Ella pushes Mrs. Everdeen away and straitens her shirt just right, so that the curve of her stomach disappears. She is wiping her eyes when Darius begins to assess the scene. His eyes move to mine. There is no anger in his look, but Katniss still places herself between us. Darius glances at Ella and appears to weigh his words.

"Those are some bad burns you to got at the bakery tonight," he says finally.

"Yes," I chime in, "Ella came in to buy a loaf of bread and I surprised me so badly, that I turns a pile of coal out of one of the ovens." Darius gives a stern nod, but almost looks relieved. I am startled when he moves across the room and kneels before Ella.

"Will she be ok?" he asks of Mrs. Everdeen. She looks at him with great speculation, trying to read his intentions.

"Yes," she answers simply.

"Ella, there is no more Hob," Darius whispers, "you should stay with Cray for a few nights." Anger flares in the girl, at this suggestion.

"I don't stay with Cray anymore," she says bitterly. Darius is taken aback.

"Mrs. Everdeen, do you think there is room here for a few days?" he asks. She doesn't have time to speak.

"No!" says Ella, "thank you, but you have all already done too much." She stands quickly to leave.

"Ella you're hurt, you can't just leave," Darius pleads. The scowl she gives him, rivals Katniss'. She is not use to being ordered around. She turns once to the rest of us.

"Really, thank you all," she says as she takes her exit. No one has time to stop her. Darius frowns with worry.

"Did you have time to treat her at least," Prim nods in reply. "She's so stubborn sometimes," Darius chuckles a little. After a few minutes of silence, he excusee himself for bed. The sense of awkwardness in the room is palpable. Once he leaves, Mrs. Everdeen hurries to my side and starts to treat my burn. The cream brings cooling relief and I sigh a little. Katniss is focused on my face, running fingers through my knotted hair.

My mind reels at all that has just taken place. All my questions centered around Ella. How did everyone know her? Why didn't she return home to her husband tonight? Why had she stayed with Cray on occasion? The answers were probably so obvious, but the liquor from the flask was strong and my mind was light. I no longer felt the ache of my shoulder at all. Maybe Katniss could explain it all to me... Her face has a ghost of the horror from before, I raise my dirty hand to smooth her brow and she smiles a little at me. Mrs. Everdeen wraps my arm and clean gauze and declares me fixed for now. I stand, waiting to be ushered home.

"Katniss, take him upstairs to bed. He'll have to get a good shower in the morning and then I'll need to redress the burn. Have him pull the ice off now, but if he wakes in the night from pain, you can apply another compress for thirty minutes. If he has trouble breathing or the cough comes back, wake me," Mrs. Everdeen instructs. Katniss staring questioningly at her mother and we make no moves toward the kitchen door.

"Haymitch, please let Peeta's house guest know he was burned badly at the bakery and I must watch him for at least tonight," Haymitch agrees and leaves. Mrs. Everdeen has to wave us off one more time, but we finally retreat to Katniss' own bedroom.

Katniss tries to position me on the bed without applying pressure to my sore shoulder, but at this point it doesn't matter. The drink is relieving the pain and the comfort of being with her is so great, I find myself very comfortable on the familiar bed. She goes to the bathroom and returns with a wash rag. She gently sweeps my face and hands trying to rid me of some of the soot.

"We are not letting them separate us again," she says suddenly, "I was worried sick." She allows me to smooth her hair with my wet hands.

"Okay," I reply.

"I love you," she tells me.

"I know," I say. She shifts quickly and curls next to me, her face low on my chest, clear of my sore shoulder. I am drifting off quickly. But I want an answer to at least one of my questions.

"Katniss?" I whisper "Why are you so scared by that girl?" She raises her head to look at me. She is dumbfounded, probably by the obviousness of what I have missed. She smiles sympathetically. It's the look I get when I do or say something naive. And I find out why soon, Because when she speaks, everything clicks and, I too, am overwhelmed with fear for the girl.

"Peeta... that girl is not married..."

Chapter 23

KPOV

Under the influence of drink, Peeta slept through the night. I was not as lucky. I laid awake for hours still replaying the events of the night. Even with Peeta by my side, my fear for him remained. My mother had declared all his wounds minor, but I was still irrationally protective of him. When my anxiety would peak, I stopped to listen to his even, clear breathing for reassurance. When he coughed twice just after midnight, my heart gave a jolt and I found myself half way to the hall. The room had already returned to silence and I knew my mother would think me crazy for pulling her from bed, to find Peeta comfortably sleeping. So I sat back against the headboard and tried to think of other things.

This brought no solace to me. Because the next most stressing thing rose to mind. I had known Ella Cooper, of the seam, for many years. But I would not call us friends, Gale had always tried to steer me clear of her. She was in his year at school, but they never spoke. Neither of us disliked the girl, in fact I saw too much of her in myself, which was probably what Gale was afraid of. Ella was not as fortunate as Gale or I, she had no parents at all, which was clearly why she despised the children's home so greatly. At the age of eighteen, which fell at the beginning of the school year for Ella, she was dismissed from the orphanage and put on the street, like all teens in the same position. She was a resourceful girl and had lived longer than others. Ella often sold wild flowers and sometimes fruit in the Hob for money, but in the winter months she must have suffered. I couldn't know for sure, but I had a feeling she fed herself by giving her body to our Head Peace Keeper. He had a taste for young girls and was willing to pay. If that had been the case, I knew exactly who the father of her child was. Because I understood Ella. I knew what it felt like to starve and during times of such struggle you do not care about love or children, you worry about eating. This child was not conceived in passion, it was an accident wrought from her determination to survive. In another life, if Peeta hadn't been there with the bread, I would be Ella Cooper, I think sadly.

I wondered suddenly if my mother would be the one to raise her child. Would the Capitol allow it? No. They would not. That child would go to the home and if they found Ella trying to get away with it, they would probably whip her to death for her defiance of the rules. It wouldn't matter to them that she had been pregnant before the rule changes. The Capitol and mercy do not co exist. But maybe she would pull it off. Darius had seemed oblivious, perhaps Cray had no knowledge either. She was so close, if she could lay low a little longer, she might work it out. I hoped she could. I couldn't imagine any man from the seam or town stepping up to claim her, heavy with Cray's child. Certainly Cray himself would not. The idea of seeing this girl beaten and broken for things outside of her control made me sick. I put my head over Peeta's heart and listened to the rhythm, wishing for sleep.

Peeta woke in great pain. Despite my careful alinement, his shoulder was very stiff. I helped him in the shower from the outside of the tub, completely dressed. I wouldn't push my mothers understanding too much more. I scrubbed his golden hair, I ran a soapy wash cloth over his skin, and tried to remove the ash from under his nails. I imagine the idea of me washing him like this would be more arousing, if he wasn't so miserable. When I leaned in close to reach across him, he stilled my head. With his lips pressed to my ear he relayed the highlights of the evening prior. I imagine he could have talked for some time, but his explanation was short. He told me the essentials, Mr. Wells and the brutality of the Peace Keeper, but left the rest out. I was grateful, I didn't need to hear how the fire came close enough to burn or how he was hit in the shoulder. My imagination made up enough horrifying scenarios for me.

Portia had the forethought to drop clothing off for him late last night. Prim left the simple clothing on the bed and I also helped him dress. He laughed at the excess of my efforts, but didn't stop me. It eased my nerves to do this little bit for him and I got the impression he was enjoying it too.

By the time we entered the kitchen, he had improved slightly. Prim fussed over his arm and my mother prepared us all breakfast. We were a rather sedate group and I felt sure I was not the only Everdeen who went sleepless with worry for Peeta and Ella. Peeta tried to break up our reprieve by asking Prim about the last day of classes and the new test they had taken. Prim brought us a few laughs as she stress over the difficulty of the exam. She was sure she had 'failed everything'. The extent of her dramatics made me think she was putting on a show to relax us. She took a serious tone when she explained what the school had notified them about the potentials of the testing. Apparently some children who stood out may be asked to join certain career fields and be trained specially by the Capitol. More details would be given on an individual basis if you were chosen. I thought about my clever and talented sister, too old for her age already. Would the Capitol try to lure her with the promise of becoming a doctor, just as District Thirteen had? Would she be whisked away from us to train with Capitol medicine men and women? The idea was appalling. I found myself wishing she had indeed failed every single subject.

Effie collected Peeta and I before noon and we returned to Peeta's home to prepare for the next day. Effie was more flustered than her usual self.

"Mr. Wells promise to have an itinerary to me today for the ground breaking! But all of a sudden everything is top secret. How am I suppose to coordinate the two of you and write out your speeches if I don't even know what is happening," she squawked. I had a feeling this change had come as a direct result from last night. They may not suspect Peeta, but it must have been clear the people of the Hob were tipped off. Whatever was happening tomorrow they didn't what to give us time to react again. This worried me greatly. Certainly, if they feared our reaction, the ground breaking could not be a good thing. There was no sign that Effie knew about the Hob's assault. But I was not surprised. It would be the talk in both the seam and town, but our Capitol guest wouldn't even know the black market existed. Cinna, just like the night prior, was perfect in his act. He never let on knowledge of the events. He was even convincing in his surprise when Peeta shared with him and Portia the story of the coal oven burn.

The burn on his arm was another source of stress for poor Miss Trinket. Peeta must have tried on a hundred outfits before they decided the bandage was concealed appropriately. The button up he wore had it's sleeves cuffed to mid forearm, where the burn began. The shirt was handsome and well fit, but I hoped the heat would relent, because the outfit was too warm for the mid June weather. Cinna matched me accordingly and once our outfits were laid out Effie's attention turned back to the speaking portions.

She laid out scenario after scenario, trying to tell us what to say in each given instance. I was patient with her and I even tried to learn from her words, but as dinner neared I had enough. Peeta finally talked her down, insisting he could come up with something on the spot if need be. She was comforted slightly, but stared at me hesitantly. I knew what she was thinking. Of course Peeta could charm the viewers, me to be worried about.

"Don't stress Effie," I told her, "I'll follow Peeta's lead and I'll behave. I promise." At last she relents and I am free to go home. Peeta is held captive to his own room for the night on the pretense that we both need sleep. But I wonder if this isn't another instruction from the President's Office as well.

I am woken by Effie the next day before sunrise. She escorts me to Cinna who smiles weakly over a tall cup of coffee. He is still in his pajamas and his face is free from all make-up, I realize this is the earliest I've ever seen him.

"Not a morning person either?" I laugh a little. He tries to scowl back at me, but it looks all wrong on his face. I close my eyes when he starts his work. The light strokes of the make-up brush are soothing rather than irritating and I almost fall asleep. How wonderful it is to work with only Cinna. I much prefer his quiet nature and light touch to my prep team. I better not get too spoiled though, because I have a feeling they will make a reappearance for the tour.

Today takes a little longer because I am not dressing for Twelve, I am dressing for all the viewers of the Capitol. The make-up is pale, girlish shades still, but it is much thicker than the previous night. Once I am in a light blue sun dress, hair strait with a matching ribbon, I find Peeta down stairs. He looks handsome as ever. He too adorns product on his face, but his hair is mostly natural. Beautiful blonde curls spilling out all over his head. I reach up to touch it, perhaps twirl it in my fingers, but he gives me a warning look.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Effie has slapped me twice this morning for trying to run my hands through it," he cautions. I huff a little, but go in for a kiss instead. Almost as soon as our lips meet, I feel Effie smack the back of my bare shoulder with a large clip board.

"No, no, no. Save it for the camera," she exclaims. I pull away and she gasps dramatically at Peeta.

"See now, his make-up is all ruined! Portia! Cinna! Come quick," she calls. I examine Peeta and laugh. His face is perfect except for the slightest gleam of pink lip gloss on his lips. His expression is comical, brows raised in confusion and fear at Effie.

The make-up fiasco delays us some. Portia and Cinna had to discuss and come up with a new game plan. My lipstick is changed several times and I am ask to test each one on Peeta's lips. Even though they have all seen us kiss, I feel a little awkward having them examine us so closely. Peeta must feel the same, because after the first few pecks, he barely moves with me. The Capitol is trying to steal our passion now, I think to myself. No wonder the first time around I struggled with my feelings. Love is not meant to be examined under a microscope. Which now unfortunately, we always seem to be under. But I refused to let anything take that happiness from me. Even if I had to work harder for it, I would keep our love and lust for each other. I would have to see him tonight...

Finally, we arrive at the site and I am instantly confused. We are by a line of fence roughly between the seam and town. The Hob would be almost adjacent if it still existed. With a start I noticed, not the ruins of a building, but no building at all. Not rubble or ash or structure lay before me. In fact the only sign anything ever sat there was the slightly uneven ground. Mr. Wells and his men had been very busy indeed. This must be where the steel factory will sit, I think. But the space is limited. Would a factory fit there? I mentally measure the space between the fence and the nearest houses. Maybe thirty yards at best. Would they also demolish some houses? That seemed wasteful, but then again the Capitol was not known for practicality.

I settled myself in the chair labeled 'Miss Everdeen' next to the one labeled 'Mr. Mellark' on the make shift stage. Peeta and I sat with our backs to the fence as a crowd built up. Effie joined us briefly and handed Peeta a cue card.

"This is what they would like you to say. The Mayor will introduce the two of you. Peeta will speak. Katniss I just need to smile and wave," she explains a little condescendingly, but I don't care. I can do that, if it means not talking.

"Then Peeta will announce Mr. Wells and he will explain the plans of the Capitol. As the men begin work, the camera crews will come to talk to the two of you," she continues, "Just talk about how helpful the Capitol has been to District Twelve and of course, they will all want to hear about you two." I look to the abyss that was the Hob. Yes, all the wonderful things the Capitol was doing. Peeta squeezed my hand and I plastered on a smile.

From our seats I watched the crowd. Most if not all of Twelve seemed to be present. This must be a mandatory event. I find Prim and my mother towards the front with the Hawthrones, but Gale was not with them. I wondered fleetingly if he would dare miss this and risk the punishment, but then I spot him. He is in another group of people to the right of the stage. His eyes catch mine and he gives me a nod in greeting. His smaller crowd was comprised of men and women all dressed in similar white shirts, navy overalls, and heavy looking black boots. There was a mix of town and seam people, but they all looked young and strong. I realized, this is one of the new work crews. Gale had been accepted, he would not be thrown in the mine after all. I wondered if he was happy to be picked. Surely the money would help his family. Maybe he would even get to stay out in the sun? I scanned the rest of the group. Several mine workers were present and many kids from Gale's year in school. With surprise I find Ella toward the back. This opportunity would be helpful for her to survive, but I worried what kind of work a pregnant girl could do without going into early labor. I push the thought away. I couldn't take on anymore stress today, at least not until I could figure out what Mr. Wells had planned for us.

At least four cameras are trained on us and the crowd. Mr. Undersee and Mr. Wells are the only people to join us on stage, but Effie, Portia, Cinna, and Haymitch all stand off to the side in waiting. Dozens of Peace Keepers work through the crowd. They carry the same heavy looking clubs Darius sometimes had. When it is time to begin the crowd quiets quickly and I think they might be reacting to the tales from the burning of the Hob. I see more than one person eye a Peace Keeper warily.

Mr. Undersee's portion is short. He greets his citizens and speaks of his great pride in our growth. He then introduces us as the 'sweethearts of the seventy-fourth hunger games'. These are not his own words. The crowd cheers us loudly. But it's not for our triumph in the games. The Hob folks had recognized Peeta as their savior. I hoped people had cense to not talk about it in public.

Peeta reads from the card Effie has given him. His words are full of thanks to our supporters in Twelve as well as the Capitol. He talks about the great potential that our district holds. When he hits a line about the joy of having family and loved one's together again, as if on cue, I reach up and kiss his cheek. In the Capitol the crowd would have Ooo'd and aww'd but here at home people stand quietly and listen to his words. Finally he talks about how excited he and I are to be a part of the growth and without further a do, he introduces Mr. Wells, 'Project Manager'. We all applaud. I smile widely both to Mr. Wells and the cameras. He shakes each of our hands as he takes the microphone. He wears his own smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I think he would look handsome in his fit suit and clean facade, if it wasn't for that menacing feel he still exerted.

"Good morning District Twelve. As Mr. Mellark and Miss Everdeen have informed you, I am Mr. Wells. I will serve as the appointed Project Manager from President Snow's office. I would like you all to know that he is just as excited as every one of you for the changes to come. The Capitol has been working tirelessly to improve the quality of life for families in the districts. The Growth and Family Development Program has been initiated by President Snow himself and we ask for absolute cooperation at this busy time. The President will speak later today on some more incentives for growth, but for now I wish to lay out our plans for the district," He uncovers a large board at the back of the stage, I had not noticed before. The drawings are clear, but I can't comprehend the layout. Two new structures sit beside the existing houses and three long fields spread across one side. Where will he fit all this? I think naively. But my ignorance is short lived because he tells us all the answer to my question.

"Today we break down this fence and with it we remove the road blocks to your success" he points behind him with an air of finality. I agree whole heartedly, the woods had been my own salvation for years, but I wait for more. He returns to the diagram.

"One mile wide the fence will be removed and we will push the boundaries into the wild for many more miles. Here will be the site of a new state of the art medical center," he points to the building nearest the homes in the picture.

"This will be a steel manufacturing facility that will bring in funding from all around the nation for your produced goods. Large quantities of coal will be needed for this particular venture. Machinery from he Capitol will arrive in days, to aid your mine workers," the building he touches now, sits by my own lake in the woods.

"The areas surrounding these future structures already have some untouched potential for food. We will use what fruit trees already exist and plant more to sustain you. Tobacco will be planted in the other areas," the silent horror starts to build in me as realization dawns.

"Finally, the remaining land, farthest back will be used to breed horses, cows and ox. these animals will be used at sources of food and transportation," He explains. And as if practiced, Peace Keepers and the new labor crew moves forward to the fence. They wield Capitol tools and within seconds, it seems, the first section of fence falls. Mr. Wells leads us all in applauds. The crowd does not know what to think, but they comply. Peeta nudges me to my feet and I try to smile brightly. They expect me to be happy. The viewers in the Capitol think this is a good thing. The horror peaks in me as a worker cuts into the first tree. They are going to destroy my sacred forest. My second home. I falter, the tears welling in my eyes. Somewhere deep in one of those thousand year old oaks, sits my beloved bow from my father. There is no way to get to it now. The bow that survived even the bombing of Twelve in my past life, would be the first casualty in this world. Peeta, seeing my face, turns me toward the destruction to hide my expression from the cameras. His air wraps around me protectively and I close my eyes to the destruction, until the camera crew finds us and once again I am forced to plaster on my fake joy.

Chapter 24

P POV

At the end of the very long day I find myself back in the kitchen of Katniss's house. I sit in one of the kitchen chairs with no shirt on, as Mrs. Everdeen inspects my burn and shoulder. Katniss is emotionally worn and sits slumped on the floor at my side. Neither Prim nor Mrs. Everdeen question her, they understand. The woods, her own personal salvation, was being flattened at the very moment. I stroke her hair for comfort, but there are no more words to say. She had already heard my apologies and waved them away. She knew there would be some sacrifices to changing our path. As sad as it was, I knew she would lose the woods a hundred times if it meant saving Prim. She would probably always miss her hunting place, but the shock and pain would wear off in time. For now I would wade through the grief with her, as I always did when it seemed to great to bare.

"It looks better today. I think it's best to leave it open tonight, let it get some air. Come see me in the morning and we'll decide were to go from there," Mrs. Everdeen pulls me from my thoughts and gestures to my burnt arm, "If your shoulder aches later you should apply heat to ease it." The day has gotten late and the airing of the ground breaking plus the President's new message will begin soon. We are expected to join the team at my house. I stand to leave and Katniss wakes from her reprieve to join me, helping me pull my shirt back on.

"If it gets too late, don't wait up for me, I'll see you in the morning," Katniss kisses her mother and sister goodnight. We leave the house and start to make our way across the lawn.

"Catnip," a deep voice calls out. We turn to find Gale sprinting toward us, still wearing his work overalls, a large package with him. Katniss's eyes wonder to his hands and her face stretches in to a wide smile as he reaches us. I see his face match her expression before she launches herself into his arms. A sob breaks through her lips.

"I just barely got it out of the tree," he says breathlessly, "but I couldn't let them destroy it." I notice the package then, it's not a package at all. It's the waterproof wrapping that conceals Mr. Everdeen's handcrafted bow. I can't help the smile that reaches my own face. Katniss pulls away from Gale and greedily grasps the wrappings from him. She awkwardly cradles it to her chest, her eyes closing for just a moment. She is savoring the precious gift fait has thrown her way. She may lose her woods, but this part of her father has returned to her.

I am overcome with thanks for Gale and his quick thinking. I am indebted for the joy he has brought to her in this instance. I reach out to shake Gale's hand. He hesitates, but excepts it.

"Thank you," I say sincerely. Katniss is pulled from her private reunion with her treasured belonging.

"Thank you...I...thank you Gale..." Katniss stutters. He laughs a little.

"I can't have a hunting partner if she doesn't have her bow," he says, "But I have to get back. I'm still suppose to be working. It was lucky Darius could cover for me." She nods in understanding, but Gale pauses for another minute. I assume, like me, he is basking in the glow and radiance of her. The brilliance that comes from her in times of sheer joy. He nods one more time in farewell and turns to sprint away.

The bow is carefully tucked just inside the hatch to the attic, which sits in the closet of my bedroom. Once it is safe from prying eyes, or rather cameras as the case might be, Katniss literally sighs with relief. With renewed spirit, we join the others for the broadcast. I find the large comfortable chair by the window open and we place ourselves in it at once. I settle in first trying to scoot over to make room for her, but she nudges me back until she can rest her body between my legs instead. I lean against the pillows and she curls to her side. We look like we could be getting tucked in for the night. When the program starts and Katniss closes her eyes, I realize this is exactly her plan. She has no intention of viewing the replay, it was painful enough the first time. I rub her shoulders and allow her this pass. I watch for the both of us. I suppose I am happy with our performance. Katniss looks distressed at times, but I think others who do not know her as well would brush it off as surprise. Effie at least thinks so, because the play by play she gives us of the day's events includes numerous heartfelt compliments. I was the perfect public speaker and Katniss a gracious lady. According to Effie, we could do no wrong. Katniss was so still, I was convinced she was actually asleep, until the show came to an end and the familiar black screen with white writing appeared. Her head rose swiftly from my chest and she twisted in my lap to face the television. It was time for the mandatory viewing.

"Good evening Panem," President Snow is wearing almost the same attire from the last broadcast, only the color shirt and rose are changed to a soft blue. I wonder fleetingly if he is purposely trying to match us, or if it's just a coincidence. Either way the calm he is attempting to convey is lost in the severity of his gaze. I take in his surroundings and an uneasiness settles in me.

"I come to you tonight after the historic ground breaking in District Twelve, home of our new Victors..." The room is not the office he had sat in before, but a darker, long room. The camera men must have done their best to illuminate it and dress it up with flowers and a decorative Panem flag, but the grey windowless walls still stand out. The President sits at the end of a long official looking table. I can't help but feel like I have seen this room. Had he broadcasted from here before?

"As we speak, barriers to their success are being removed, to pave the way for a better tomorrow. A new day when Families can thrive and Panem can grow strong..." Men had sat with him before, I realize with a jolt. The table in my memory was not that of a television screen, nor the old hazy memory of a highjacked thought. I had stood there myself. This room set in the depths of the Capitol, down the hall sat the very cells they trapped us in. The boy standing in my memory could hear Johanna screaming, pleading them to stop...

"In days past, local officials have laid out several incentives for families, but statistic have shown that many of you are hesitant to divulge in these offers..."

_I am pushed roughly to the ground by a large Peace Keeper. My head pounds, blood seeping from the side of my face. I unwillingly grunt when my knees slam into the cement floor. 'Good evening Mr. Mellark, so kind of you to join us," I hold my retort. I feel him make his way toward me. I see his shoes as he rounds the table, his movements are slow, deliberate. With out provocation, his fist meets the sore spot at my temple. I fall back, my eyes are blinded with pain and the florescent lamp above me._

"As your President, this saddens me. I now realize the true nature of the Districts and the struggles my citizens encounter daily..."

_His shadow looms, I can only make out his outline. 'I thought I made myself clear last time Mr. Mellark. You can be a rebel with that insulate little girl or you can be a Capitol hero. I guest after tonights antics, you have made up your mind. Warning Thirteen will be the biggest mistake of your very short life.' He brings himself down on one knee and leans into me. His breath is hot and wet, I can smell the stench of blood. 'Think of that girl in days to come and know she is the one who brought on all this pain. Remember you made this choice, not I," he waves the guards forward._

"My personal advisors and I have put long hours into discussing this very issue, and I believe we have come up with several solutions. Please be advised that all prior rules and regulations will remain, but the following new allowances and opportunities will now be offered to each of the Districts..."

_They are on me with out warning. Steel toe boots connect with my sides and leg again and again. I try to hold my shouts of pain, they will not help me now. My discomfort only eggs them on. When my head rolls to the side, I find every head at the table turns to watch me. Their eyes menacing like Snow, some of their lips turned in smiles for the show. These men running our nation were just as soulless as our leader._

"First those in good general health and of the ages sixteen to forty are eligible to join a career as a government employee. These jobs will be either as laborers for District development or in national defense as Peace Keepers. Training may accompany these positions and some will be expected to travel out of their home districts..."

_They strap me to a chair at the front of the room, my hands painfully cuffed behind me. 'Now Mr. Mellark, tell me how you came about the information, you decided to share with the nation tonight,' Snow drawls. I glance to the Peace Keepers near by and clamp my mouth shut. Saying now who I had over heard outside my cell would not help my cause. The individual would be punished and the rest of the guards would have turns taking it out on me later._

"Second, Peace Keepers and government employees will now be able to marry. If stationed in a District other than your own, your immediate house hold will be able to travel with you. Each of these families will also be able to partake in the new tesserae."

_There is a long silence as he awaits my answer. I expect another hit, but his voice softens, as if speaking to a baby. 'Do you think Miss Everdeen would allow herself to suffer like this for you? Do you think she would trade her own life for yours?' I think of Katniss, I feel the truth of her words on the beach and reckless bravery breaks in me 'Yes," I reply. The room breaks into laughter around Snow, but he glares at me with unfathomable rage._

"Third, after careful review, the new age of consent for marriage has been lowered to fourteen. The men and women of Panem are raised to be confident and self-sufficient. My advisors and I believe this is the true age of adulthood and the youth of Panem deserves our respect and acknowledgement. Objections to individual marriages will be considered as previously outlined."

_The room quiets again slowly. I keep my eyes focused on my most deadly predator. 'Do you know what Miss Everdeen is doing right now? She is curled up safe and sound with Gale Hawthorne in District Thirteen. Do you know about the kisses they have shared in the woods of Twelve? I assure you they are nothing like the fake affection she shares with you. Yet here you sit struggling to save her from me, while she throws herself to another man.' He turns from me and motions to the back of the room at a person I had not noticed before._

"Finally, I would like to announce a rule change that will apply to the upcoming Quell, as well as all future hunger games. It is one of the greatest honors to be chosen as a tribute, even greater to become a victor, but the time has come to put family ahead of the Games. Time to focus on building for tomorrow. All legitimately married individuals will be ineligible for reaping."

_The man moves fast across the room, I barely have time to register him before he plunges a thick needle int my thigh. I scream in pain as he presses down the plunger. I am burning from the inside out. If I was able, I would cut off my limb right then and there. With every heart beat the fire races through my body. Sweat pours from me, I can't breathe properly. I know I am yelling out, but my mind is fogging. Suddenly Snow is nose to nose with me. 'Remember, when you cry out for death to take you, it was your foolish love for that girl that brought this on...'_

I don't hear his closing remarks. My hands are griped painfully hard to the chairs arms. I feel one of the seams rip at my fingertips. The world around me blurs as tremors engulf me. I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing. I can feel her body wrapped around me.

"Not real, not real..." Katniss chants in my ear. But it was. Among all the horrible fake memories, sat the true days of torture. With the clear, undamaged mind of my youth, I could recall them with precision. Even now, hundreds of miles and a lifetime away, I could feel the burning all the way to the pit of my stomach.

"I'm Katniss and you are Peeta. We are people not mutts. We love each other, more than anything. I will never hurt you. We are home in District Twelve with our family and friends," she lists in a rhythmic way. I shake my head. I want to tell her what I have just remembered. I want her to know this is not a delusion brought on by the venom, that I am aware of myself. I can't find the words and when I finally open my eyes to find her, I am suddenly very aware of our audience. Cinna, Portia, and Effie stare with fear, Haymitch looks perplexed. Katniss's position would be inappropriate in any other situation. She is straddling me, her body pressed close, arms wrapped tight around my neck. I try to absorb her warmth, let it calm my nerves. But the shaking will not abate. She finds my eyes, trying to understand me. I wish I could tell her without words. I can read her like a book, she is scared. Terrified that I will be taken my the highjacking and we will be stuck here without my pills or aid from Dr. Aurelius. I press my lips to her's for comfort, both her's and mine. I hope she can read the tenor of my action, know that I am at least sure of her.

"So is anyone going to tell us what the hell is the matter with you two?" Haymitch interrupts. I pull back, slightly calmer. Excuses whirl in my mind. I certainly could not say I was terrified of our President out loud. What was expectable to be scared of?

"I dosed off and I was back in the arena. I didn't make it to Katniss in time..." I leave the end open, hoping they will fill in the lines. Hoping my feeble statement is enough to fool them. Effie nods in relief and understanding. Cinna and Portia look sad, but don't question me. Haymitch is turning my statements over in his head.

"Come on kids. Let's take a walk." He answers finally.

Once outside Haymitch leads the way off towards the near meadow. He pulls his flask from a side pocket and offers it to me. I don't think anymore liquor will help we this week but Katniss snatches it away before I can say so. She takes a long gulp and hands it back to the older man. Her face scrunches comedically as she swallows.

"You better watch this one boy or she'll get the taste for drink," Haymitch says. Katniss shoots him a scowl in reply. I still feel unsteady on my legs and I clutch her hand for support. Haymitch eyes us in thought again.

"Look I know what you have gone through. That look on your face, I have seen it before..." Haymitch leads into his speech. My heart stops. What did he mean by 'seen it before', could he be referring to my old self. Did he know of my torture?

"I knew what had happened when I saw you both after the games. You had gone in as these children and you returned different people..." Could Haymitch be from our time? Had we previously misjudged the situation?

"The Games change you," he say, and I know I had hoped to soon. We were here alone, just Katniss and I.

"No one can be ready for it. It's okay to be scared, but you have to know what to do with it," he continues.

"I wasn't aware drinking was the right way to deal with it, Haymitch," Katniss says defensively. Haymitch laughs.

"Well it's better than you two running around terrified, drawing attention to yourselves," Haymitch chuckles.

"I didn't mean to..." I start.

"Listen boy," Haymitch cuts in, "it's my fault. I got you all worked up the other night, after the Hob. But look, I asked around and no one knows for sure it was you. Even if they had, you can't be so openly scared of the Capitol. They want their Victors strong and proud. We're in the clear, as long as you don't go nuts every time President Snow pops on screen to taunts us with that half cocked plan of his."

"What is Snow's plan?" Katniss blurts out. Haymitch laughs again.

"I knew you would be the nosey one to break first and ask," Haymitch mocks.

"I know you know what is going on Haymitch. We can handle it. Tell us," she demands.

"Have you thought that maybe I'm not sure I can trust you with it yet?" Haymitch says. Katniss scoffs in irritation.

"You think we are ignorant children!" Katniss almost shouts

"No," Haymitch answers in an audible whisper, "I think you are arrogant and careless and this boy listens to every word you say! Believe it or not there are things and people more important than you. Things are in motion, but I cannot and will not let you ruin it. When and if I think you grow up enough, I will let you be a part of it." I want to argue, deny it all, but he is right about at least one thing. I will always give her whatever she wants, no matter the cost.

"So what do we do until the great Haymitch Abernathy deems us fit?" Katniss says condescendingly.

"Keep your mouths shut with whatever you know or think you know; quit acting like the Capitol is the enemy, even if they are; and keep doing exactly what Snow says. By some miracle he likes you two. A rarity, believe me. Don't blow it. In the long run, if you can keep it up, being in with Snow will be the greatest thing you can ever offer this world." He takes a long drink from his bottle. We have made a great loop and are now in front of his own home.

"Now get out of here," he waves us off and enters his front door. We do go home, but not separately. Katniss refuses to be left at her own front lawn. When we enter my house, the first floor is empty. The hour is late and it has been a long day, everyone would be in bed. She leads the way to my room. We should be more careful, I should be more worried, but I reveled in her comfort. She is gentle with each movement. She sits me on the bed and begins removing my clothes. I wonder how long I will get to be treated as helpless by my wounds. It is silly to let her carry on like this, but I can't deny the smooth touch of her small hands or the soft scent of her body, so close to mine.

"Tell me," she says as she pulls my shirt away. She is using my own line. I'm sure I could think of some way to convey what I remembered to her, but suddenly I don't want to. She has such worry in her eyes and knowing this newly discovered horror will not ease her discomfort. I shake my head in reply, but she beckons me with her eyes and hands, as she strokes my face. Perhaps she is wondering if I am still myself or the other Peeta that sometimes took over, the angry one. She didn't realize yet, that the monster created by the Capitol is gone in this life. My young mind was still my own. My resolve crumbles, I whisper my words in her ear.

"I'm ok. The venom doesn't affect me anymore...It was a real memory that caught up with me tonight...something from my time in the Capital...the night I warned Thirteen..."I let my words hang in the air. He expression is just as bad as I imagined. I have confirmed her worst fears of that night. She opens her mouth to speak, but I silence her. No good will come from further explanation.

Again, to calm us, I seal my lips to hers. She gasps at the aggressiveness of the action, but does not pull away. She is more than willing to take this detour with me. I slide back on the bed, bringing her with me. She take her position from earlier and winds herself around me. I can't help but think how small she feels. Had she always been this tiny or was it the size of me that had changed? I think of the girl who could scramble up a tree with ease and the sixteen year old boy who could swing around giant bags of flour. It was both of us I decide. I run my hands along her bare calves, which rest on either side of my hips. Her own hands find my bare chest and she grazes each of my nipples. I am aroused by the idea and feel of our fit bodies pressed to one another. She notices at once and rocks a little against me.

"Oh no, I'm not letting you get away with that again," I tease her. Her mock defensive expression turns to surprise when I roll us together and pin her back to the bed. Her sun dress ruffles mid thigh. In a tantalizing motion I raise it to her belly button, exposing the thin cotton of her panties. I kiss the indention of her navel and drop back down on top of her. My excitement is pronounced, even still encased in my pants. I position myself between her legs and rub against her center. She squirms under me. I can feel the heat coming from her.

"Is this pay back?" she pants a little, "I thought you enjoyed yourself last time," she teases. I gain entrance to her mouth with my tongue. Our bodies collide so hard I worry I could break her small frame. But she only encourages me on, wrapping her smooth legs around my waist and gripping my neck with eagerness.

"I want you to make love to me," she commands between kisses. Her feet push at the belt holding my pants.

"What happened to building endurance," my voice is heavy with lust. She answers in actions. She grabs one of my hands and moves it between her legs. The material there is soaked. I moan in her mouth. I slide the cloth down her legs and move my fingers back to her. I run them through the wetness before I find her entrance and gently press two fingers inside. Her head flies back in a moan of approval. I pump slightly, but there is little give to her.

"You're still too tight," I tell her. She starts to protest, but I rock forward and she is silenced by the building pressure.

"Besides, I want to taste you," she shudders at my words. I work my way down her body grazing my teeth against the fabric that covers her breasts. I rest my free hand there to replace my mouth and continue to my goal. My mouth meets her and she grabs my hair. I lap at her sweet taste and words fall her. A series of moans and pants issues from her and I know she won't last. I find her tender swollen nub and run circles around it, a trick I learned with years of practice. She is unhinged. Her legs tremble, my name rolling from her parted lips. I curl my fingers repeatedly inside her and she bounces a little to push against them. I feel her muscles tighten and I throb. I won't last either.

"Don't stop," she cries. I pull my mind away from this moment to hold out longer. The sounds she is making consume me, but I focus on the color of the sheets. I pick out the paints I might mix together to get this exact shade. I pick up pace with my tongue running up and down her most sensitive spot. I move my fingers in and out of her, stretching the tight muscles. All at once she cries out, contracts around my fingers and gently pushes my head away from her. I feel a surge of fluid on my hand. She falls back to the pillows and I go to her. I hold her and kiss her cheek softy while she comes down from her organism. My erection strains painfully against it's confines.

"I'm ready," she tells me seductively. Though my body protests, I shake my head again. I want her badly, but I'm not convinced of her being physically prepared. The idea of hurting her again is terrifying. Besides I felt once we crossed that bridge again, there would be no satiating my hunger for her. She must have understood because she did not question me and laid beside me, awaiting my next move.

I stood briefly to remove the rest of my clothing and returned to the bed on my back. My arousal was still apparent. I felt sore, in need for release. Katniss slid beside me placing her lips on mine in a series of small pecks. I felt her arm reach down. She didn't touch me at first and I was confused as I felt her legs shift. But then her warm, moist hand wrapped around my hardness. Slick with her own juices, she ran her hand slowly, firmly, up and down the full length of my member. She turned my head slightly and capture my ear with her lips.

"Is this what it feels like inside me?" she mouthed. The warmth was already washing over me, but I managed a retort.

"No," I said in a pant, "you're tighter." She smirked at my smugness and gripped me harder. I moaned in pleasure. She increased her pace with my encouragement. I gripped the sheets, trying to delay my orgasm. The feeling is too good and spill myself over her.

As I collect myself Katniss settles against me, pulling a sheet up around us. She makes no move to return home. I am thankful for her presents, not just here, but in my life. She will chase away the bad dreams tonight. I can still recall President Snow's words, but the idea of Katniss with Gale, when we are still intertwined, is preposterous. I pull her a little closer and we fall off to sleep.


	7. Section 7

Time does not heal all wounds. After the war Katniss struggles to move forward and embrace a new life with Peeta, but can't overcome the ghosts of her past. Will the chance to go back result in a better future or end with the same results?

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

A big thank you to all the people who have reviewed. I love the encouragement and love to hear what you think. I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! And**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

*****NEW UPDATE AT THE END OF THIS SECTION*****

Chapter 25

K POV

The days following the ground breaking, were busy and full of change. There was so much going on around me in the District and I had so much to do myself, for the up coming tour, that I wasn't left with time to worry. Certainly many more questions were raised by Snow's plan, but overall people seemed happy and healthy in Twelve and I felt myself lulled into a false cense of security. At times, I even found myself happy for some of the developments. As I fell into a pleasant pattern of good days, I tried to keep my eyes and ears open for new information.

Peeta hadn't had any more flashbacks and I was able to slip into his room several more nights. It got harder to stay away, as we got back into the habit. His arms surrounding me, further calmed my mind. With Peeta near I found it easier to obey Haymitch's request. It was against my nature to passively follow direction without explanation, but I suppose if I was going to trust anyone it was Haymitch. He always had a plan and in the past I had gotten us into more than a little trouble for not listening to him. Regardless, Peeta silenced any doubts with his words and often his lips most nights. No one seemed to question these visits any longer. Maybe they knew how careful we were being, or maybe they just got tired of fighting us. Even Darius, who still stayed with my mother, Prim, and I, had started to ignore my nighttime comings and goings.

On the whole, Darius was proving to be a pleasant house guest. When he sometimes joined us for dinner, he was polite and good for a few laughs. He was always quiet around the house and never left messes. When he was free he would volunteer for chores or to walk Prim to town, when needed. My mother was so pleased, at one point she had teasingly offered to trade one of her own children for him. But Mr. O'Maley was seldom around, due to a full work schedule. Once the cameras had left District Twelve, the clubs in the Peace Keepers hands had been replaced with automatic weapons. They could fire off fifty rounds without reloading, Darius had told us. The opening to the fence was guarded day and night and individuals passing to go to work had to sign in at one of the posts established just before the woods. At the end of the day you signed back out. Head Peace Keeper Cray had assured the public this was to fend off the wild dogs that sometime roamed the area. But I knew that was not their main worry. With their set up, if someone attempted to leave the District on foot, they wouldn't get any farther than an eight hour hike.

As time went on, Darius was more forthcoming with information and some times I would see a flicker of annoyance or disgust when he spoke of the Capitol. I wondered if that established pride for his nation was starting to crumble. He always chose his words carefully, but was able to convey that he did not care for the aggressiveness of the new Peace Keepers, nor the infamous Mr. Wells. Further, when the new marriage laws were laid down, he had received a rare phone call from home. Later, he confided in me, that his sister, at the age of fifteen, would be married soon. The man was in his twenties already, someone Darius's father had worked with and set up with his daughter. His discontent with the situation was plain on his face. I thought of Prim, celebrating her thirteenth birthday only days before. In a year's time, she too, would be eligible to marry. The little girl with two braids, instead of one, who still slept in my bed on occasion and accepted piggy back rides from Peeta, could one day soon be someone's wife. I wasn't surprised by Darius' family's actions, people would go to any lengths to protect their children from being reaped. But it left a bad taste in my mouth. Darius and I were not the only ones to feel this way, but we were the minority.

With the new law, their was an influx of young marriages. At first there were families who contested, but after several young wed couples were given housing in the new homes adjacent to Victors Village and received their first tesserae, most objections fell away. The first to marry were some of my classmates from the seams. The lure of a beautiful home, plenty of food to eat, and an end of your reaping days was too great. Those children had each had dozens of slips in the bowl, the rule changes were mercy to them. Whether it was Snow's plan to win these youth over or not, it was working.

As weeks wore on, town children joined the cue. They hadn't worried as much about the games in the past. So often an individual forced to take tesserae was chosen as tribute. But with so many of those people taken out of the equation, the merchants began to worry for their own kids. Soon you were hard pressed to find any one over the age of fourteen single, without the intention to marry. In fact, the only person slowing this particular progress, was Mayor Undersee. Madge during one of our visits had relayed her fathers open distaste for the laws. 'Children should not be getting married' he had told his family and other District officials repeatedly. He was turning away the couples daily and forcing them to appeal to the Capitol. He did not want their union on his hands. Madge was worried by his open defiance. She felt that, in time the Capitol would notice the stack of appeals they got from Twelve and then the Mayor would have to answer to them. I was sure she was right, but I comforted her and myself by hoping Mr. Undersee would have a change of heart and follow protocol soon. Either way, I knew the Capitol would allow the marriages in the end. He was fighting a losing battle.

I couldn't help but feel like I would be fighting a losing battle soon, as well. As the pool of the reaping shrunk, so did our chances of getting a tribute out of the arena alive. The name drawn would most likely be a twelve or thirteen year old from the seam. Other poor districts would run into the same situation. But the careers would have the forethought to keep one or two eighteen year olds available. They would be heavily trained and prepared to volunteer. Our tributes wouldn't have a chance. The best case scenario was if one of the random unwed town children were drawn. Better fed and older, they might have a chance, but I shuddered at this thought. the only female classmate I hadn't heard of, with at least a boyfriend, was Madge. I knew Peeta saw this predicament as well, but it wouldn't help to dwell on it. The Quell was still months away. And the President was so unpredictable at this point, I couldn't rule anything out, including him repeating history and sending Peeta and I back. I resolved to not think about it until the time came.

In my day to day life, I had fallen into a schedule planned out by Effie. At first, I was resistant. Surely nothing scheduled by Effie could be enjoyable. However, I found myself blissfully wrong. After so many surprises in this new life, I really should learn to expect the unexpected. The rhythm of each week was comfortable. I liked the sense of predictability that came with it.

Each day of the week she had set aside four hours for me to learn my various skills. Sundays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays I worked with Peeta in his kitchen. My cooking was allotted the most time, first because Effie had felt the Capitol would be most interested in it and secondly, because being able to spending time with Peeta was one of my conditions for following her direction. Peeta in my opinion was an excellent teacher, perhaps the only teacher I could have in this field. I knew his cooking was wonderful, having eaten it myself for years, and he was eager to show me his secrets. He took the responsibility very serious, coming prepared with ingredients and recipe cards. He was patient when my anger flared, as only Peeta can be, and he actually managed to make it fun. We were scolded more than once by Effie for messing up the kitchen in food fights, but I was making some progress. The last batch of cookies I made had been declared edible.

Tuesdays and Fridays were meant to teach me gardening. Effie had trouble in the beginning, trying to find someone to show me this skill. With her limited connection in the District Twelve, she finally turned to our new Project Manager. Mr. Wells had referred me to Mr. Johnson, the agriculture expert sent by the Capitol. Mr. Johnson was kind in person, but he was already loaded with so many demands for work, he did not have time to teach me properly. Instead, he ended up putting me on a work detail with several people my age, tasked to prune the existing apple trees in the area. The work suited me fine because I could climb and be in the sun. He tried to catch up with me on my days of labor, but I never really gained knowledge from him.

Ella Cooper, on the other hand, who was in my work group, turned out to be a fountain of information. It became abundantly clear that her survival had rested fully on the information she held on gardening. As we worked, she told me of flowers native to this area and what amount of sun they thrived in. We discussed the correct amount of fertilizer and water for each vegetable. And she described contraptions to keep animals from destroying your crops. I absorbed it all like a sponge and sometimes I would return home and enlist Prim to try some of her ideas with me. By the end of the second week we had a simple set up of vegetables and berries planted in our back yard. The work was hard and dirty, but I felt I might actually have a nack for this 'talent'.

The more I worked in the trees with Ella, the more I saw myself in her. She was strong, smart, and resilient. A surviver, like me. I felt like she became an instant friend. When lunch came on our work days, Peeta would often drop off sandwiches, but couldn't stay. Tuesdays and Fridays were his days to work on public speaking with Effie and she had little patience for his absence. However, Gale would join us for lunch. He, like I, became friendly with Ella. I couldn't help but feel ashamed for our prior behavior. We could have all helped each other from the start. Ella couldn't have hunted with us, but we could have given her access to the woods and she would have pulled more fruit and vegetation from it than we could. I wondered sadly if we could have even saved her from her fait. I held my breath every day I came to the woods, until I found her. She had grown considerably in the past weeks and I was sure the baby could come at anytime. I often worried someone would notice her stomach, now that she was better fed on her income, or her slowed pace, as the baby weighed her down, but no one seemed to see it. Gale sat with her for meals daily, even without me, but had failed to notice.

What did not go unnoticed was the occasional presence of Darius. He stopped by at lunch time, as well as during the work day. Gale, Darius and I carried on pleasant conversation, but Ella tried to ignore him. At first he was subtle about his preference for her company, engaging us all in general talk, but as days past he would direct his questions to her specifically. 'How are you today Miss Cooper?' 'Do you think it will rain tonight Ella?' 'Miss Cooper, you have a talent for this work.' After a particularly long and awkward few minutes of forced speech, Darius had left the blushing Ella to her sandwich. Once out of ear shot, Gale had rolled in laughter.

"Miss Cooper," he teased, "I do believe that Peace Keeper fancies you. You just may be on the short list as the future Mrs. O'Maley" Gale and I chuckled, but Ella hung her head to the ground.

"I doubt that, he knows almost nothing about me," she said sadly. Gale softened a little at her words.

"Ella, he does know you. He has for years. Darius is one of the few good guys around. And he likes you. It's clear to all of us," he says reassuringly. She shakes her head, pushing his words away.

"He doesn't need to marry Seam trash, Gale. He doesn't know what he is getting into. He can marry a town girl, or better, someone from his home in District Two. Someone pure he can bring home to meet his parents," she snaps angrily. Gale stares at me for a long moment, perhaps thinking of how I have overcome the seam life. Maybe thinking of how to give her hope as well, but nothing he says now can change her reality. She has made her voice heard and Gale is silenced. Inadvertently, Ella has made it clear that she returns at least some affection for Darius. Otherwise, she might have just said she didn't like him. Instead, by proclaiming her own faults, I saw the truth in her intentions. She would stay away from Darius because she was damaged and didn't want to pull him down with her. I wondered if she wasn't pregnant, would she return his advances? No, I thought, she would still feel wrong being with him. She would think he was too good for a girl raised in the group home. But would Darius agree? If he knew it all, even about Cray's child, would he still love her? That I couldn't answer. It seem extreme, even for the kind hearted man I knew. I felt sad for Ella, even if the child was born and sent to the home, without anyone knowing, she would not find happiness. I mentally vowed to be a good friend to this girl. She had no one and she even ranked herself low on her own list. Haymitch would be angry with me for it, but I would help Ella if I could.

The other days of my week, Mondays and Thursdays, were set aside for Cinna. Often Madge joined us, as promised, to help teach me to sew and design clothing. I enjoyed the company, but made little progress with learning this particular skill. A few sessions in, Cinna and Madge offered to combine their efforts and put together my 'fashion line' which I would need to show the cameras before the Tour. After that, we mostly spent our time talking about the progress of the district or I would sit and watch them work on one of my many dresses. Somedays, when Effie was out of the house, and Cinna and Madge were deep in thought, I would slip down the hall to find Peeta. My sewing days corresponded with his art days. For hours I would watch him fill each canvas with beautiful colors and gentle brush strokes. I was relieved when the first few pictures were completed and I found scenes of home and our families, instead of the gory replays of the Games he had painted before. Sometimes Cinna would pull me from my place beside Peeta, reeling me back to his make-shift studio and insisting I give an opinion or make a decision on some fashion matter.

Today was dedicated to the dress Madge had designed herself. Madge twirls slowly on the chair, sat in the middle of Cinna's room, allowing me to see the glittering gown fully.

"What do you think?" Madge asks.

"It's amazing, but I'm not sure it will look as nice on me," I admire the beautiful cut and fit on her. The color, a brilliant green, brings out her eyes. The seam lines hug the curve of her hip. The material flutters at her feet, giving the impression of grace and balance. Her bust line, larger than mine, spills from the strapless top. Any man would swoon over her. She smiles happily at my complement.

"Don't be silly, it's made for you Katniss. Look, it doesn't even fit me right," she points to the clips Cinna has placed at the back of the dress to hold in on. Madge is not fat by any standard, but she has more substance than my bony form. I roll my eyes at her but smile. There is a knock at the door and I am shocked to see Gale, of all people, poke his head in.

His eyes fall on Madge, displayed with her bare back in the unzipped gown. She turns quickly, but blushes when she glances down at the front of the dress, she is now showing him. Generally, she is more modest than to show off this much cleavage. Gale is fixated on her until she catches his eyes. He rouses himself.

"Pretty dress," he murmurs. I cringe at the memory from our last reaping. Why must he be so rude to a good person like Madge? She looks stunned for a moment. I smack his arm in irritation and a frown forms on her face.

"Thank you," she replies in a whisper, but red floods her face in embarrassment and shame. Cinna quickly helps her down and escorts her to the bathroom to change, claiming he had already gotten the measurements he needed.

I round on Gale expecting to find anger or smugness, but I am disarmed by his own blush. I let the moment drop. I don't want to fight with Gale. He wouldn't have come here this time of day unless he had something really important to say. Fear rises in me.

"Is everyone ok?" I ask urgently.

"Yes...I think better..." he sounds stunned now.

"Why? What's going on?" I inquire.

"Mr. Wells pulled me out of the field today to have a talk. He asked me if I wanted to be reassigned," he tells me.

"Did something happen? You're not in trouble, are you?" I think of his lunches with Ella. Had they thought he was involve somehow?

"No. The opposite, I think. My test scores came back and they offered me a special position," he says. I had forgotten all about the exams.

"They said I am qualified to work in special defense projects. Whatever that means..." he wonders. I know exactly what it means. The Capitol had seen through Gale's test answers. They saw what Thirteen had, he was smart and capable. But above all else he had ideas deep in his mind that would change the way wars were fought. I was suddenly very sick. The bomb that had killed my sister was already forming in his thoughts. The Capitol would be sure to build it and would not hesitate to use it. Gale would excel, I was sure of that. Peeta and I would have competition for Snow's favorites list. Maybe if he played his cards right he would even make it all the way to the Capitol to work as one of Snow's 'advisors'. Surely, Gale wouldn't want that. He had always spit on the name of the Capitol and all it's ranking Officials. But he was beaming with pride at the offer he had received and my confidence in him faltered. Could this strong minded man be sucked in by the promises they offered? Or was he naive enough to think he could make some impact on the nation, for the better? I hoped, at least, it was the latter. I forced a smile and tried to be excited as he explained the offer more fully.

He would have to study for several months and take more tests by mail. As long as they deemed him fit after this period, he would be sent to District Two for formal training. The permanent location of his work would be given at a later date. In order for him to apply his efforts properly, he would continue on the government payroll, with a significant rate increase. He was no longer expected to work manually in the fields, but strict compliance to a reading and study schedule was demanded. He had been offered one of the new homes and his family would move in the next day. Any failures on his part would send them back to the Seam. It was a great deal of new stress, especially for a man who never cared for school. However, with the direct benefits for his loved ones, Gale seemed determined to make the best of the opportunity. I tried to see it as a good thing for the Hawthornes, even though I struggled with the idea of his future. I reminded myself the future had already changed and I had no way to predict what would come of Gale's new training.

Cinna returned to the room, without Madge, as Gale finished talking to me. She must have hung back on purpose, because she waited until I had said my farewell to Gale, before making her own appearance. Neither of my company inquired about Gale's visit and I wondered how much they could hear from the bathroom. When they started work again, I thought I still spotted a blush on Madge's cheeks and didn't pursue any talk about the topic for her comfort.

The next day, under the shade of the apple trees, I told Ella about Gale's new career. She was near by when Wells had pulled him from work and hadn't heard if he was okay. She, like me, had feared the worst. After all why would an Official want to talk to a Seam boy if he wasn't in trouble? We had several rounds of laughter about the very idea of it. I loved Madge and my few friends from the Capitol, but it was nice to have another girl who understood my struggles and sarcasm at times. We were still giggling when Darius approached us, accompanied by two other Peace Keepers I did not recognize.

"Miss Cooper, Miss Everdeen, are we suppose to be laughing or working?" Darius's voice betrayed a hint of his own humor. Ella, caught of guard by his sudden appearance, bent over in a greater fit of giggles. Her joyful mood today was infectious, the whole group burst into laughter as well. Trying to gain her composure she stood strait again. In the commotion I missed the actual movement, but every mouth was silenced and I looked up to find one strap of her overalls undone. The front folding away to expose the large bump under a tight fitting white shirt. Darius O'Maley's face was a mask of horror. After a pause, the new Peace Keeper to his left, tall and muscular with dark hair and eyes, shifted forward and grabbed her arm roughly. Darius moved to block him, but he was easily twice Darius's size and sudden rage overtook his face.

"You're pregnant and unmarried!" he nearly shouted. The Peace Keeper at Darius's right side, sandy blond and short, shook his head slightly and grabbed onto him in warning. People near by had already heard. I want to grab Ella and run. Where could we go? I thought in desperation. They would find us. I fleetly grabbed her hand in support. The crowd around us grew. People muttered and soon more Peace Keepers found us. The shouting began. The mad, dark haired man tugged her forward. Workers surrounding us pleaded with him. He howled for their silence. I clung to her helplessly. Darius still did not speak. Large tears rolled down Ella's cheeks, but no words came from her either. She fixed her eyes on me and I did my best to comfort her in these last moments before fate and bad luck finally caught up with her.

When Mr. Wells appeared at the back of the cluster, Ella ripped my hand from hers. She would not let anyone go down with her. She was too brave and too good for this evil world. I did not deserve her friendship. Mr. Wells moved to her. With a deadly gaze he inspected the girl before him and rendered his verdict.

"Miss Cooper, come with me," he said with finality. The dark haired man released her. The finger marks stood out white against her sunburnt skin. She held her head up and followed without readjusting her clothing. The crowd gave them a wide opening and then fell in behind her. My heart sank and a sob heaved from my chest. All security from the pass weeks and faith in the District's development was broken. I pull myself forward with the crowd. I had already failed her so many times as a friend, I owed it to her to at least be there, even if I could do nothing...

Chapter 26

P POV

"Okay one more time from the top of the page and remember to enunciate!" Effie Trinket commands me in her own rich Capitol accent. I had thought myself an adequate speaker, before Effie had informed me otherwise during our first of many speech lessons. Apparently, Capitol citizens thought we all spoke like heathens in the districts and it was my personal duty to prove them wrong. The correct speaking patterns, according to Miss Trinket, were much closer to her own cadence. Day after day I found myself sounding more like a politician than a baker's son. I am spared from reading by a loud shout from outside.

"All citizens of District Twelve are required in the town square immediately!" A loud voice booms. We barely have time to register before a loud knock at the door follows. An unnamed Peace Keeper greets me with a stern look when I answer it.

"Mr. Mellark, Mr. Wells has specifically requested for me to bring you and your guests to the square right away," he says sternly. I notice Mrs. Everdeen clutching Prim's hand behind him. On the street before us workers march past directed toward town. They are ushered by other Peace Keepers.

"What's..." I begin

"Mr. Wells will inform the District as a whole once we are gathered. I was ordered to bring you directly there," he cuts me off. We are all taken aback by the suddenness of this gathering. But I follow the commands of the Peace Keeper and try to remember what Haymitch had told me. Looking scared or guilty would not help my cause. I smiled reassuringly at a frightened looking Prim. Cinna and Portia joined us and we made our way to Haymitch's house. As the Peace Keeper repeats his commands to my drunk mentor, Portia lean toward me.

"Is this normal to be summoned like this Peeta?" she asked worry thick in her voice. I shrug noncommittally. Of course this wasn't normal. But nothing was what I expected any more. We joined the cue of people toward the square. The pace they adapted was fast, Prim had to take up a gallup with her short legs, not to fall behind. The Peace Keeper kept us in his view and when we arrive at the back of a massive crowd, he tugged my arm.

"He wants you in sight," he explains. We move through the crowd in a chain, people willingly move out of the way. I search the crowd in a panic for Katniss, but I need not worry. I am taken directly to her. Slightly to the side of an assembled platform, she stands arms wrapped around herself. She still wears her work overalls and her hair is pulling out of her braid. I grab her when I get close enough, but her expression is blank, unshed tears swimming in her eyes, she stares determinedly forward. When she does not answer my pleas, I follow her focus to the stage. Before me Stands Mr. Wells, Old Cray, Mayor Undersee, an unknown Peace Keeper, and Ella Cooper. My heart stops.

Ella stands very still in plain view of the crowd. He overalls straps are tied around her waist as a belt and the thin material of her shirt is stretched over her ballooning abdomen. She is not speaking or moving other than the tears streaming down her face and the slight tremble of the hand she rests protectively over her stomach. Mrs. Everdeen gasps loudly at the sight and I watch as Prim tries to crane her neck around me to see. I try to grab her and shield her from the sight, but she is too quick. Her small eyes widen in realization. We all know what is about to happen and there is nothing we can do. Wells has specifically requested our presents, perhaps a warning to Katniss and I or maybe as example to the citizens of proper behavior. I do not know or care. The vomit rises in my throat. A weak cry issues from Prim's lips. Katniss is pulled back to us. She braces her sister against her chest and strokes her hair. Her whole body shakes and I encompass her again trying to ease some emotional strain. Her arms stay on Prim and her eyes are on Ella again, but she rests her head on me in response. The crowd around us shifts uneasily and people chatter loudly about the injustice that is about to take place. I pick out Cinna's voice behind me.

"What's this about?" he almost whispers.

"That's right, you Capitol folks aren't privy to some of the new rules of the Districts," Haymitch mocks him slightly, but I know his anger is misdirected.

"You're about to get a real taste of the new Twelve. It's illegal to be an unwed mother here," he explains. I turn my head to see shock on both Portia's and Cinna's faces. Effie is still attempting a smile, that does not reach her eyes. She looks on at open space ahead of her. I assume she thinks this is what Wells expects. After all, he is wearing a satisfied grin himself. It's the same look from the night at the Hob, the look of pure bliss at the pain of others.

"Look at that selfish bastard stand there by her," I hear a man's voice nearby, echoing my own sentiments. I notice Darius and a sandy haired Peace Keeper in ear shot.

"What are you talking about?" Darius demands in a shaky voice. The other Peace Keeper looks around cautiously.

"Listen O'Maley, you have kept track of that girl better than anyone. So you know, as well as I do, that she spent half the winter in Cray's bed," he says in an audible whisper. Darius and I both turn our attention to the stage. Cray is shifting uncomfortably. Several glances are made at the girl.

"Attention please," Mayor Undersee steps forward, voice weak and face pale. Peace Keepers in the crowd echo 'quiet' until you can hear a pin drop. The Mayor wrings his hands nervously and looks back to Mr. Wells. Wells is either too impatient with the Mayors actions or too excited for the event, because he steps forward without further introduction.

"District Twelve," he says in greeting, "The Capitol has been very generous with it's time and contributions to the development of your home. All President Snow has asked in return is for your obedience. The new laws have been clearly laid out for you," he pauses to turn and point to Ella.

"This girl has made a mockery of you and all of Panem, by selfishly disregarding these rules. Let her be an example that the Capitol is generous to each of you, but will not tolerate your insubordination." He pauses again, probably to let his word sink in, I fleetly remember Effie teaching me this same speaking technique.

"If it is his, surely Cray will claim her," Darius says from feet away. His friend scoffs.

"We'll see O'Maley..." says the Peace Keeper.

"Now, this is Miss Ella Cooper, unwed expectant mother, residing in the Seam currently. Miss Cooper will now receive fifteen lashes, unless some gentleman is willing to claim this child," Wells informs the crowd. There is an outbreak of fury from the assembles people. A woman from the back shouts loudly at the stage.

"It's not right! She was pregnant before the rule change!" The woman's complaint is followed by a general murmur of agreement. Anger flashes in Mr. Wells's eyes and he motions quickly to someone at the back. A single gunshot is fired followed by a series of screams. The crowd rustles in agitation, but silence comes faster this time. The fear in the crowd is peaking, no one dares speak another syllable against the Official's word. Prim cries softly between Katniss and I, and we both pull in closer to muffle the noise. Ella shakes harder on the stage and I wonder how much stress a girl eight months pregnant can take before she passes out. I suddenly hope she does, to spare her some pain. The smile has returned to Mr. Wells's face and he speaks again.

"Now that I have every one's attention, we may continue. As I said, Miss Cooper is yet to be claimed by a man. We will give exactly five minutes for an eligible gentleman to present himself and then we will begin," he looks to the large clock on the city building behind him. The small arm ticks to one thirty on the nose.

"Time starts now," he says. He turns his back to the crowd and joins the other men at the back of the stage. Undersee looks sick; the Peace Keeper, board; and Cray continues to examine his own boots.

"Fucking coward," Haymitch says under his breath. He pulls the flask from his pocket and takes a long drink. Why don't you step forward Haymitch, I think. But then I realize he is just as bound as me by Capitol expectation. Snow would not stand for a Victor acting this way.

"Calm down O'Maley. Maybe that Hawthorne kid will step up, they hang out together in the fields sometimes," says Darius's friend. Katniss's head swirls to catch Darius. He is shifting back and forth nervously. She takes him in and scans the crowd, I assume looking for Gale. Maybe Gale would come forward. Despite our history, I knew Gale was a good man at heart. But was he even in the crowd? Today was his moving day. Could he be stuck somewhere between the Seam and Victors Village unaware of this assembly?

"She looks like she's in pain already," Darius says. I find Ella on the stage again. She hasn't moved, but both her hands clutch at her shirt now and her eyes have closed in concentration. Again I pray for her to pass out. Time is running up. Mr. Wells smirks at the clock and begins his walk to the front of the stage.

"He's really not going to stand up for her," Darius says with disbelief, his eyes fixed on the Head Peace Keeper. Old Cray has not moved a muscle. The clock hand approaches one thirty-five.

"Are you crazy?" The sandy haired man grabs at Darius, but Darius brushes him away. He is steady now and mounts the nearby stage in three long strides.

"I claim the girl," Darius says confidently. Ella's eyes fly open, tears spilling back out of them. She turns from the crowd and shakes her head violently in his direction. Cray looks up in relief, but Mr. Wells expression is pure rage. His voice is deadly. If possible, Darius wins even more respect from me, when he stands his ground under Wells interrogation.

"You are stepping forward to claim Ella Cooper and take her as your wife before the birth of her child?" Wells seethes

"Yes," Darius replies.

"You are the man responsible for the child she carries?" Wells inquires.

"Yes," he says without betraying doubt.

"And you are prepared to receive the punishment for this crime, understanding that in your particular circumstance this will include a demotion from Peace Keeper status as well as fifteen lashes," Wells announces to the listening crowd.

"Yes." Darius swallows hard.

"No," Ella sobs, reaching out to Darius.

"Silence her," Mr. Wells points to Cray. He advances on Ella and tries to hold her still. Her own anger, at being touched by this particular man, explodes. She screams and flails like a wild animal trapped.

"Quiet!" Wells demands again. Haymitch pushes past us and climbs the stage as well. I am confused by his actions for a moment, but then he pushes Cray away from the girl and folds her in his own arms. He whispers frantically in her ear, she calms with his words. Mr. Wells looks unhappy, but allows the exchange. Speechlessly, he motions two Peace Keepers forward. They are hesitant in there actions, perhaps friends of Darius, but they obediently strap him down to a low barrel set mid stage. He doesn't struggle even when they rip the shirt from his back. The unknown Peace Keeper who has been present from the start, steps forward, whip in hand and begins without further notice.

It is too much to watch. Katniss buries her face in my shoulder and I feel the wetness coming from her eyes. I turn us slightly and fix my gaze on the large clock. My stomach turns with every slap of skin, every wail of pain. It is gracefully fast and in less than ten minutes people are moving out of the square in a rush. Darius is bloody and half conscious. Haymitch is barely holding Ella up right. Katniss turns to Cinna and Portia, who look as horrified as I feel.

"Please take my sister home, we will be there shortly," she commands.

"No," Prim cries.

"Primrose, I need you home to prepare for them. Only you can set everything up correctly," Katniss explains. Cinna, Portia, and Effie take Prim and leave without further instruction, probably more than willing to be rid of the scene in front of us. Darius's friend has gotten to the stage and is untying him under the watchful eyes of Mr. Wells. Katniss, Mrs. Everdeen and I follow his lead. I try to pull him up to his feet, but he resists.

"No, take Ella. She needs help first," Darius says weakly. I want to argue him on this point. His eyes are dragging to the back of his head and blood trickles down his back. But I won't question him, if our situations were reversed, I would feel the same. Katniss gives me a nod and takes my position. Between Katniss and the other Peace Keeper they are able to hoist him to his feet. Ella is still with Haymitch, but he is barely able to hold her. Even heavy with child, she seems smaller than Katniss. I lift her from him and cradle her to me.

We are a gruesome parade through the streets of town. People move out of our way when they see us coming and we approach Victors Village in a short time. Haymitch relieves Katniss and helps guide Darius to the Kitchen when we reach the house. I place Ella on the sofa. Mrs. Everdeen is at her side in an instant, assessing her and the child. After several minutes of concentration Mrs. Everdeen gently pushes the hair back from the younger girls face and speaks in a soothing voice.

"You're okay, but I need you to lay very still and relax. You have had a very stressful day and the baby is feeling that now. You could go into labor within the next few days and you need all the rest you can get. I know everything is overwhelming right now, but I want you to sleep, if you can," Ella nods at her words. Mrs. Everdeen assigns Katniss to Ella's side and ushers me from the room. Darius's friend stands awkwardly in the hallway, unsure of his next actions.

"Young man," Mrs. Everdeen addresses him, "I need you to go and get the Mayor. He should be home by now. Tell him to bring the necessary paperwork and come right away. If he protests, tell him the baby is coming tonight." He nods at her words and runs from the house.

"Is the baby coming tonight?" I exclaim in surprise.

"She's having mild contractions and if her water breaks, I can't do anything to stop it. The timing is poor, but babies don't wait on anyone or anything," she smiles to herself, laughing at a joke lost on me. Darius has been laid out on the center counter top, just as I remember Gale. Prim is cleaning his deep gashes meticulously with a strong smelling agent. Haymitch is plying him with white liquor.

"Haymitch the Mayor is coming to marry them. He has to be able to consent," Mrs. Everdeen warns.

"All the more reason to drink," Haymitch lightly taps Darius's head, "this is your bachelor party son." Darius's eyes are closed but he manages a real smile.

The girls work on Darius and are able to have his wounds dressed by the time Mayor Undersee arrives. He still looks sick and is in a hurry to complete the forms and leave. He waves the traditional ceremony and just asks for Ella to join us and sign her name to the bottom of a page. Once he leaves Ella burst into tears again. Darius, is alert with alarm.

"Are you okay? Is it the baby?" He asks in fear.

"I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt anyone. My mistakes should be my own. I'm ruining your whole life," Ella says in agony. She sits on one of the stool next to the counter. Darius tries to maneuver to embrace her. The movements are strained, but the intention is touching.

"This is the best moment of my life," he says with sincerity, "I get a beautiful wife and a child all on the same day."

"Lier," she scoffs, "your stuck on a table in pain."

"Well, in a way it was faster and less painful than trying to get you to talk to me," he smirks. Ella laughs in spite of herself.

"I am sorry," she says again.

"No, I am. You're the one married to an unemployed schmuck like me," Darius teases, but there is concern in his voice.

"Shh..." Ella says, "you need to rest and heal. We can worry about everything else later." He just nods at her words. Before his eyes close Ella reaches down and presses a single kiss on his lips. It's brief but so sweet and intimate, I feel uncomfortable trespassing on this moment of theirs.

Mrs. Everdeen insists on the new couple staying in the Victors house for the next few days. After beginning work, Ella had been assigned a home in the Seam, but Mrs. Everdeen felt Darius's wounds needed tending and she remain convinced the baby would come soon. She was correct on both fronts. Ella turned out to be more squeamish than Katniss, when dealing with other's blood and was not able to see Darius's back without getting faint. And the baby made it's appearance the very next morning. The new baby girl was named after Darius's mother, Rosemary, and she already had a tuff of red hair that matched Ella's and Darius's. Despite the hard ships to come, the couple was actually fit well with one another. Ella who was committed to her husband and child, poured herself into each role. Darius loved Ella fiercely and he never let on that his new daughter was not his biologically.

Ella Cooper's situation had ended as well as anyone could expect, but the horror of the day stayed with me in the weeks to come. I woke night after night with visions of Katniss standing alone on the stage baring my own child. The terror abated when I woke with her in my arms and could run my hand down her flat stomach. But I now knew, we would never even use the condoms. They were not full proof and the risk was too great. Katniss must have felt the same because she didn't question me the day I sealed them in an envelope and dropped them in Old Cray's mail box. The helpless girls who came to him, needed the protection more than I did. My appetite for Katniss had not eased any, but soon we would be husband and wife. I would just have to be creative until then.

Our Capitol guest had also been visibly altered by the public whipping. Effie was much quieter than usual and I found she stayed to herself more and more. Portia on the other hand made a greater effort to get out of the house. She and Cinna spent hours at a time roaming the town square, talking to merchants. She asked many questions about my life and up bringing in Twelve. Some things shocked her greatly, like the idea of the tesserae. Apparently, Capitol citizen were more ignorant to the districts, than even I had realized. I did my best to answer every question and I didn't shy away from less glamorous detail, like the death rates of starving children in the Seam.

"I don't think anyone in the Capitol really understands what it is like to live in the districts," she told me in realization one afternoon. I just nodded in reply. Of course the citizens of the Capitol didn't understand. How could they? They are raised in a world so different than ours. A life surrounded with plenty of food to eat, the luxury of of avoiding the reaping, and the constant shelter of the government. Everything was censored for them and painted beautiful. Portia's epiphanies gave me hope. Maybe others, if presented with the information correctly, could see the truth as well.

Chapter 27

K POV

The hot, August sun beams down on us as we work. The large brimmed hat I wear blocks out the sun but holds in all the heat and prevents any wisps of wind from reaching me. I take a break from my work to wipe a drop of sweat rolling down my face.

"Why don't you just take the stupid hat off," Ella laughs at me. She sits a few feet away in the dirt of my garden. We spend a lot of afternoons here, pruning and weeding the small vegetable patch, but today is spend on repair. Last night Prim's goat, lady, had managed to get herself free from her small pen and had made a feast of the carrots. The sight of the little goat slumped over with a full belly and caught red handed, right next to the destroyed crops, might have been funny, if it wasn't getting so close to the Victor's Tour. We had been out here for hours removing the damaged plants and trying to selvage what we could. I thought ironically, that Buttercup, who often ran away squirrels who would also eat the vegetables, had now become my favorite pet. Or at least until he hissed at me again.

"Because Effie would be mad," I huff. With her time spend in Twelve, Effie had softened about many things. For one, Peeta and my schedules. Weeks ago she had lost her determination for honing our talents, calling our efforts 'good enough'. We were no longer expected at lessons and were able to spend our free time as we wished. I wondered how much staging she was prepared to do with my cooking for the camera. Second, she no longer questioned my manners or etiquette. I knew she disapproved of our new house keeper/gardener Ella, but she never said a thing. Further, she acted oblivious to my nightly visits with Peeta. Although, she needn't worry either way, there, aside for the occasional touching, we were as innocent as the original sixteen year old Katniss. Which was a mighty task when you knew just how good things could be. However, what Effie hadn't stopped worrying about was appearance, specifically my physical looks. She was horrified when my skin had started to darken as I spent days in the garden. 'This simply will not do,' she had said. Peeta who got pulled into the bakery for his 'free time' to help with the sudden increase of business, was just as fair as ever. Only the tinge of pink on his cheeks, nose, and shoulders, betrayed the season. Effie insisted that I at least try to cover myself and prevent further sunburn so that we wouldn't look so at odds standing together. The whole idea was ridiculous, but Cinna had agreed. So I conceded by wearing the hat and a sticky lotion from the Capitol to block the sun. I looked at Ella and thought for a moment they may be right. Her time out doors had made her so dark, she matched her beauty marks.

"Besides I can't pull off a tan as well as you," I teased. Ella examined her arms.

"This is nothing. You should see my poor husband. He's all red and freckles now," she chuckles softly. O'Maley was demoted from Peace Keeper as promised, but after he was healed, Mr. Johnson had offered him a position in the fields. Darius was not used to the labor at first, but he was willing to work anywhere to support his family. After their marriage they had also received another surprise, the offer of one of the new constructed homes. Mr. Wells had made his displeasure with the couple clear in the beginning, but it seemed as though their punishment had passed. The O'Maley family had paid it's dues and now they could live and work like other new families. Ella had not returned to a traditional occupation because of Rosie, but my mother, who had got increasingly busy as a healer, had suggested the new position in our home. It took convincing because Ella, like Gale, did not want hand outs. But she could not keep a baby so close in other lines of work and I swayed her, saying my family would really need the help while I was away. All in all, the O'Maleys were doing very well. So well, in fact, Darius had pulled from some of his savings as a Peace Keeper and in a fit of romance, had bought his wife a wedding band. It was custom in is birth place of District Two and he had told her, he wanted every one to know she belonged to him. I wondered if he knew the significance of his words. Ella Cooper, who had never belonged to anything or anyone, always wore the ring with pride. The simple band, not expensive gold, but a pretty smooth, stainless steal ring shone from her mud covered hands.

"What's it like to be married?" I asked tentatively. She turned the question over in her head and smirked a little at me.

"Are you asking what it is like to be married? Or what it's like to have sex?" she asked. I couldn't prevent the blush that reached my already red cheeks. Despite what I may do or say to Peeta behind closed doors, it was not a topic I cared to discuss with others. She misread my embarrassment as a reply.

"I can't tell you what it's like with someone you actually care about. It's too soon after the baby for Darius and I. But I can try to tell you what I remember of my first time," she offers willingly.

"No," I say quickly, before I am subjected to more, "I'm good there...I mean not that we have, you know...I just don't have any more questions...my mother is a healer" I lie lamely. I try to reword my question.

"Is it...scary to be a wife and mother?" Ella's expression is thoughtful again. Even with my mortification, I am glad I have asked her. Ella, so much like myself, is probably the one person I know who can really answer my concerns. She knows my fears and what will calm me.

"Yes, in the beginning. I worried I would be horrible at it. I was scared Darius would get to know me and hate the person I am. I felt unprepared. At times I would scramble around the house to make sure things were done just right. It was like a job I didn't get training for. He would make me laugh or smile and it scared me more. Forcing a good man into marriage shouldn't bring me happiness. But he never faltered. I think we are really in love..." she pauses, taken back by her own words. I want to laugh, but I remember the first time I told Peeta I loved him. I'm sure I had the same look on my face and I was just as surprised with my feelings as Ella is now. I reach out to her and it breaks her reprieve.

"Sorry," she says, "I guess I'm still in the beginning." We laugh together now.

"I do still worry," she continues, "about many things. Especially Rosie. But I love her so much. And my family makes me so happy. I really don't think I deserve any of it. But as long as I have it, I will enjoy it and I will be the best wife and mother I can." Her words are beautiful and honest. I want to tell her that she deserves happiness more than anyone, but she has changed the topic back to carrots. I notice the position of the sun and have to bid her farewell. I must go and prepare myself for much less pleasant company.

I bathed quickly, trying hard to rid myself of dirt and hurry to the next house over to find Cinna. We had discussed my attire for tonight over many days, since Peeta's announcement of dinner with his family. I was more than nervous. Terrified would be a better adjective. But we had twenty-one days exactly until the first of September. We would be gone for the month and would return home engaged. We were running out of time to talk to his family and though I had begged for Peeta to do it on his own, he felt strongly that I should be there too. It would 'be more real' to them, he had said. I had given in and all I could do was prepare for the coming wrath of Mrs. Mellark.

The news of our upcoming engagement had already been broken to my mother. In traditional style, Peeta had shown up at our home with fresh bread and flowers for her. They had a private conversation in the study and my mother had given her consent to marry me. Prim squealed in delight and through her arms around Peeta, ignoring me completely. Peeta was already her brother-in-law at heart and she couldn't wait to make him an official part of the family. She had also become a great fan of baby Rosie and in the days that followed, I found her eyeing me with a curious expression. Wordlessly, she made it more than clear what she was looking forward to most. She's the only one, I often thought with disgust at the idea.

Cinna helped me into the simple, but beautiful shirt and skirt combination. The colors were soft and the fabric flowing. We had struggled to stay some what informal, yet respectful. I hoped the effort would not go unnoticed. My hands shook a little and Cinna offered to braid my hair. We finished and I barreled myself out of the house, I was running late already.

Peeta would be waiting for me at the bakery. In weeks past he had spent hours working along side the rest of the Mellarks. People in the District were better paid and it afforded them the luxury of bakery bread. Sale's were through the roof. I missed my days with Peeta and I often found myself following the familiar path to meet him at the end of his day. The shop was usually stripped bare and I would end up waiting hours sometime for the Peeta to complete prep work for the next day. I didn't mind. I loved to watch his hands work. And the Mellark men seemed happy for my company. Anne Mellark was a different story. Evenings when I arrived at her shop, I was welcomed with a scowl. Once, when Jimi had suggested I join in, to prepare the dough, in order to speed things along, Anne had almost shouted 'no'. Her continued distaste for me was clear.

I tried to focus my mind on other things as I made my way down the road. My eyes found the far off view of the new construction. Even at the distance I could see the frame work of the new hospital and steel plant. Their structures were racing each other to completion. At the pace they had men working, I expected them both to be open before I returned home. The cement laying for each of these projects had coincided with the arrival of a large shipment of cattle. It was the 'perfect time', Effie said, for another airing. That day had been easier than watching them cut down the woods, but I still allowed Peeta to speak for me. I would never have his perfect voice and stature.

Peeta, as promised, waited at the back steps of the bakery. He is also dressed simple in a clean t-shirt and slacks. His face betrays some fatigue, but he is gorgeous as always. I jog the last few feet and he pulls me to him.

"You look amazing," he echos my thoughts, "I missed you today." I laugh because I understand. I feel like the only time I see him is during my trips here and in his bedroom at night. I kiss him in reply.

"Before we go in, I should warn you, there is an extra guest joining us and I think both my brothers have news," he says elusively. He has peaked my interest, but Mr. Mellark chooses that moment to usher us into the house for dinner.

I must be later than I had suspected, because the table is already set and filled with dishes. Mr. Mellark senses my embarrassment and saves me an apology.

"Don't worry, we weren't waiting. You arrived at the perfect time," he reassures me. I smile, hearing Peeta's own kindness in the older man. Mrs. Mellark looks like she disagrees, but does not speak. Peeta, graciously helps me to my seat and settles in beside me. I am greeted by the rest of the table and find the addition to our group sitting across from me. I know her immediately, even without the polite introduction Jimi gives her.

Her name is Reese Wittman, she is just as town as any of the Mellarks, and I find her just as distasteful as Anne. Reese is the daughter of a shop owner. Her father is the only legitimate liquor seller in the District and with the Hob out of business, they have had even more success than the bakery. Her fortune has nothing to do with my opinion of her, though I can tell quickly Mrs. Mellark is satisfied by the girl's status. As we eat, Reese explains how most of the new tobacco crop will be set aside for her father and they will soon ply the District with that particular luxury as well. Anne makes several carefully placed compliments about Mr. Wittman's growing enterprise.

What I know of the girl comes from my school days with her. She had a mean spirit about her and was indifferent to classmates who had been afforded less. She kept to a small circle of friends, that had once offered Madge a place in their group. I had asked long ago, why Madge didn't accept and I was alarmed by her answer. Madge, who never spoke ill of people, had years worth of stories from her childhood and beyond about the cruelty of this particular girl. One memory specifically, stuck out, about a seam child she had stolen a toy from and lied about later, when caught. It was a silly thing to think about now after so much time, but I felt like it spoke to the innate character on the woman in front of me. I had a sick feeling about what I though Jimi had to announce and I was sad for him. Peeta's brother wasn't a bad person, he must not know who this girl really was.

There was a lot of idle chatter during the meal. I kept waiting for Peeta to tell them about the Tour, but I felt like he was holding back, perhaps waiting on his brothers. It started to feel like a game between the Mellark boys. Mr. Mellark directed conversation, while Peeta, Jimi, and Bailey shot glances back and forth. There must be something about having brothers that makes everything a competition. This was an agonizing stand off for me, but most of the table seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"Katniss," Mr. Mellark distracted me, "have you heard any more about the plans for the new hospital?"

"No, Mr. Mellark," I say politely, "but they seem to be moving quickly. I expect more news any day."

"I think we've all known each other long enough for you to call us James and Anne," he says. Anne, looks like she disagrees.

"Okay," I say. Bailey clears his throat. He forfits the stand off.

"I am glad you have all come here tonight to celebrate my announcement," he laughs at his own words, already knowing what he is about to say will be the least exciting news of the evening.

"I have been excepted to be trained as a Peace Keeper. I leave mid-September for District Two." There is a small out break of applause. Mr. and Mrs. Mellark beam with pride and Jimi claps him on the shoulder several times. Peeta is having a hard time concealing his reaction. Neither of us think good will come from this career path, but he arranges his face properly and congratulates his brother. In the mists of joy, Jimi crumbles next.

"Reese and I are getting married," he exclaims suddenly. My heart drops. Reese and I will soon be in-laws. Anne Mellark is beside herself.

"Oh Jimi, she is such a good girl, so beautiful," she gushes, as if the girl did not stand beside her. She turns to her husband in excitement.

"Just earlier she offered to learn the business and help with the work load," she tells him. Annoyance floods me. Reese, overdressed and hair pulled up in elaborate curls, had not worked a day in her life. I was not good enough to touch the Mellark's ovens, but they would trust this girl? Another round of congratulation circles the table. Peeta seems genuine this time and I make a mental note to bite my tongue until he gets to know her better. I would let him form his own opinion about his soon to be sister.

Mrs. Mellark left the room briefly and returned with the largest cake from the showcase out front. It was big enough for an actual wedding and it was clear Anne wanted to show her satisfaction in her sons' decisions. Peeta was silent and I could see him chickening out. Knowing Peeta, he didn't want to steal the attention from his older brothers, but I would not be able to sit through another dinner with his family before the Tour. My nerves couldn't take it. I nudged Peeta under the table with my foot. He caught my meaning and called everyone to attention again in a shaky voice.

"I have an announcement also," Peeta stumbled slightly over his words. The situation was laughable. Peeta, the man who had stood toe to toe with his tormentor and spoke to the public with ease, was struggling with speaking under the apprehensive looks of his family. I clutched his hand for reassurance and tried to smile sweetly.

"It has already been agreed upon, but I will formally ask Katniss to marry me at the end of the Victor's Tour," he says with more confidence. This statement is followed by a short silence. Mrs. Mellark has all her concentration on cutting the cake and I wonder for a moment if she didn't hear him.

"See I told you, Jimi," Bailey claps his hands together once, as if in triumph, "I told you hes loved her for years. Congrats little brother." The boys laugh at what must be a private joke. Jimi punches Bailey in the arm and hands are shook across the table in celebration. There is an awkward moment when Reese reaches across to me with a kind smile and my own hand falters slightly. I recover, but Mrs. Mellark has been pulled from her thinking.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I mean this with no disrespect. But I feel like you are a little young to make this decision, Peeta. Katniss is a..." she has to search for a word to describe me.

"she's a lovely girl, but I wonder if you would both be suited better with someone else. You should give yourselves time to figure out what you want. It's not like other children getting married now, you two won't be reaped." I am seething with anger and Peeta's own hand tighten on mine in frustration.

"Who exactly do you think could be better suited for the boy Anne?" Mr. Mellark cuts in. He is not happy with his wife or her accusations. His own words are meant to shake her from her poor manners, but instead, she answers as if it is a true question.

"There are so many beautiful girls still in town, Peeta. And you were always so popular with your female classmates. Just the other day I ran into Mrs. Undersee. Madge is so kind and she's not evolved with anyone yet," she informs us. I am equally disgusted and horrified by the idea of my dear friend and the love of my life being thrust together by Mrs. Mellark. Peeta is just as baffled and is still collecting his words.

"I'm sorry Katniss, would you like some cake," she tries to offer me a small plate.

"No thank you, Anne," I spit at her.

"All things considered, I think it's better for us to address one another more formally," she tells me. Her rudeness has brought me to my breaking point.

"Fine," I say, venom in my every word. The boys across from me almost recoil at my voice.

"Then next time we see one another you can call me Mrs. Mellark as well!" My words are like a slap in the face to her. I stand to leave but Peeta catches me around the waist and holds me securely. I am trapped, face pointing away from the table. I want to hide myself away in him, but I try to stand tall and maintain dignity, as Peeta finally manages his rebuttal.

"Jimi, Bai, I am really happy for the both of you. Reese it was nice to meet you and I'm sure I will get to know you better in the future. Dad, thank you for your support. Mom," he sighs, "Katniss is the only girl for me. I am not a child and I do not need to explore my options. I am going to marry her very soon. The only person's permission I'm asking is Katniss's and she has already accepted." Silence meets his words, although I am sure Anne has more to say. When no one else speaks he thanks them for dinner and we leave the house.

Once outside, I adapted a fast pace, wanting as much distance from the night's events as possible. Peeta jogs to keep up, pleading with me to slow down. Stubbornly, I ignored him and within minutes, my flimsy Capitol made sandals, catch on the uneven grown and I fall to my knees. I was able to support myself enough that I didn't scrape my skin, but in doing so, I felt a sharp twist in my ankle. I swatted his helpful hands away and tried to stand. It was useless. I slumped in defeat and I felt Peeta's arms wrap around me.

"Are you in such a hurry to get away from me, you don't care if you hurt yourself?" he says a little angry. He cradles me to his chest, lifting me off the ground and moving towards home. I am disarmed. None of this is his fault. In fact, he did everything right, including clearly pronouncing his love for me to his very stern mother.

"No, of course not," I tell him, "I just want to be away from her." I try to look apologetic. She will always be his mother. He cannot change her.

"You know none of it matters to me, don't you? I mean I would never run off with some other girl, right?" he says with genuine worry. I nod but I think about his words. Old, almost forgotten questions surface in my mine. When we get close to Victor's Village, he tries to take me to my mother. I soundly refuse. If I go to her now, I could be stuck in my own bed tonight. After some coercion, Peeta takes me to his room. I compromise by letting him ice my leg.

"Are you sure I shouldn't take you home? It's getting swollen already," he reports.

"No, it's just a sprain. We're doing the best by icing. It will heal on it's own," I don't know for sure, but hope he can't hear it in my voice. He leaves the cold compress in place and joins me in bed. We lay facing one another and he slings an arm around me.

"Are you ok?" he asks, "I mean with everything tonight." I think over the question and try to form my response carefully, I don't want to sound silly or jealous.

"I'm ok," I hedge, "but I did wonder about something that your mother said..." his muscles go a little ridged.

"Katniss, I promise, I don't have any idea where she came up with the stuff about Madge. We never even spoke before the Games." That wasn't really the answer I was looking for, but an unexpected relief washed over me. Was I jealous? Did I think someone could steal Peeta away? It was beyond silly, but it was also true. I thought of the 'many beautiful girls still in town', available to him in this life. In our past, we were damaged together and most of Twelve was gone. It eliminated a lot of dating possibilities. He certainly had more options now. I saw the truth in my thoughts. I was scared to lose him. Physically, Snow would always make him be by my side, but his heart could still belong to another girl. I realized with shame, this was exactly how he had always felt about me. My conclusion made me weak and insecure. I wanted him to tell me over and over how he loved me. I needed the affirmation. I couldn't stop myself and I recklessly throw out the questions I wanted answered.

"Peeta, were there other girls? Did you kiss anyone before the cave?" I immediately regret my words. He is still and holds a pained expression. It must be worse than I thought.

"Never mind, I'm an idiot," I scowl at my ridiculousness and try to get out of the bed. Maybe I should go home to my mother. My leg slows me and before I can stand from the edge of the bed, he is in front of me.

"Wait, don't go," he says, "you're not an idiot. You're braver than me for actually asking. And of course you can ask me anything you want. I have never kept anything from you intentionally. It's just that some memories were foggy before and then you never really asked either." I wait, patiently now.

"After I tell you, can I ask something about you?" he says. I nod quickly. The answers for his questions will be easy. There was no one before him in my past youth and in this life there would be no one after either.

"I use to hang out with Navy, her parents supply the bakery with grain and sugar," he tells me. I knew Navy, who was in our year. She was tall and pretty. She had light brown hair and blue eyes. But worst of all she was a lot nicer than I use to be. What I didn't know was what 'hanging out' amounted to and I was too chicken to press for the information I wanted. Instead, I stared into Peeta's eyes hoping he wouldn't make me say the words. He must have understood.

"It was last year. I would see you with Gale and I thought there was something between the two of you. She showed interest and we would walk home together sometimes. She kissed me or I kissed her, I can't remember, but it happened a few times. And then one day on our way home, I saw you. You were laughing at something Prim had said. You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. No one could ever compare to you and I couldn't pull my eyes away. Maybe she saw me and could tell, but for whatever reason she got the picture and we only saw each other at school after that," he explains, and then adds as an after thought, "I'm pretty sure she's married now..." I can't help the laugh that hits me. Now that I know it all seems so much more crazy. Peeta loves me. I kiss him in relief. WIth our lips together I suddenly want all conversation to end. I want to feel his love now. But Peeta still has questions of his own, and I had promised. He pulls away and finds my eyes again.

"You and Gale?" he says hesitantly.

"I have never kissed Gale," I confirm, hoping he will understand that I mean this lifetime.

"Or anyone else," I add for clarification. But my answer must not be complete, because Peeta looks embarrassed, there is more he wants to know. I can't read Peeta the way he does me, so I am forced to wait again.

"I guess I was wondering about your feelings now..." he leads in, "if you have any confusion this time?" I wonder fleetingly if the other Katniss would be annoyed. I think she would be. Even now I have a hard time when people ask me to explain my emotions. But this is Peeta and I just made him outline his past for me. He will propose to me in front of the nation in a few weeks. Saying he deserves to know what I think about another man is an understatement.

"There is no confusion now. I want Gale as only a friend. I love you," I mold my body to his and he found my lips again. Gently, slowly, he pushed me back to the bed and every time our lips parted for a breath, he whispered the encouragement I needed.

"I love you," he says again and again. And I knew, no matter what anyone said to us, I wouldn't feel silly or insecure anymore. It was true, that even if I lived a thousand lifetimes, I wouldn't deserve Peeta. But fate was on my side and I had him. I would do what Ella had said and enjoy the happiness I had.


	8. Section 8

Time does not heal all wounds. After the war Katniss struggles to move forward and embrace a new life with Peeta, but can't overcome the ghosts of her past. Will the chance to go back result in a better future or end with the same results?

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

A big thank you to all the people who have reviewed. I love the encouragement and love to hear what you think. I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! And**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

Chapter 28

P POV

I press my fingers down into the pliable ball of dough mechanically, my thoughts somewhere else. Katniss was home with Cinna, trying on the eight wedding dresses he had personally designed and assembled for her. A small camera crew had arrived on the morning train to capture her in each gown. As in our past lifetime, someone had the overbearing idea to film her and allow the nation to vote on which dress they wanted. I thought it was perhaps a little soon for them to be producing the show, since I had not officially asked yet. But apparently, to Snow it was a done deal. Effie had told us the airing of this segment would play days after the Victors Tour and Katniss would hear about the results of the vote in a weeks time. Katniss looked shocked by the timeline, but Effie took her expression as excitement and barreled on with the good news.

"I know it's just wonderful, think, before the winter holidays you will be Mrs. Peeta Mellark," she covered her mouth quickly, "oh, pretend you didn't hear that. You're not suppose to know yet." Effie had excused herself in a rush, siting all the things she had to prepare for the upcoming Tour. Katniss and I were left speechless in the wake of the new information. I tried to assess her state, see through to her true feelings, but she adapted a blank facade and wouldn't meet my eyes. Whatever she felt in that moment, she refused to let me see. Perhaps afraid of hurting my own feelings, or maybe just surprised. Either way, I had lost the nerve to ask. I wouldn't have picked this timeline myself, but I did want to marry Katniss and I didn't mind it being so soon. Besides we truly had no choice in the matter. Snow had made this clear to us with his speech months ago, as well as this new update for Effie. Unfortunately Katniss, I knew still had mixed emotions, despite what she may say. She felt forced, which of course she was. But I was selfish and more than anything I wanted her to feel what I did. I didn't want to repeat the proposal at the end of the Tour and see a fake smile on her face. I wanted her to be proud and happy to belong to me.

I had gained back some of my confidence in the days since Effie's announcements and resolved myself to find out what Katniss was thinking about our upcoming nuptials. To do so, I would not officially ask Katniss to marry me in front of the country. Yes, we would put on a show for them, but the real proposal was coming much sooner. Tonight, just days before the Victor's Tour kick off, I would ask her to become my wife. Without cameras or prying eyes I would let her hear my words and I, in turn, would hear hers. She could have that real moment to decide. She could even take the opportunity to say no. I would not be angry with her and nothing would change our path in the next months, but I would at least know. I had imagined a million scenarios in my mind, trying to prepare myself for rejection. But I was sure she would still catch me off guard, whatever her reply.

I tried not to wish too hard, not to want her so badly, but it was a losing battle. I thought of her now in the white dresses. Her hair draped down the soft skin of her back. I wondered if the gowns were the same as last time. Would the audience choose the same? I would not know until our wedding day for sure, but I always pictured her in pearls. Recently the vision of her in soft satin had haunted my every day dream. I could picture her so well in one of those gowns on our wedding night. My hands undoing the long row of buttons. The feel of the dress as I let it fall down to her slender waist. The idea brings a grin and a blush to my face.

"Peeta, are we making pancakes or bread today?" Bailey mocks me. I look down to find a very flatten piece of bread dough. After the disastrous events of our family dinner, I had spoken little to my mother, but I had returned to work for the sake of my father and brothers. On days like today, when dad had errands to attend to, they were left very short. I wondered what would happen after both Bailey and I left. I try to kneed the dough back into place and tossed it in the pan beside me to rise. Bailey passes another dough ball to me.

"Try not to kill that one, I've seen Reese make a better loaf than your last one," Bailey ribs me. He chuckles to himself, but Jimi standing next to him, misses the humor. Jimi and Reese had been married in a small ceremony a week before. Despite her families wealth, the event was traditional for Twelve. The only notable differences were the new white dress worn by Reese, provided by her father and the excessively large cake offered by my mother. As promised Reese had come to work in the bakery, but within minutes it was clear she was not meant for bread baking. After an incident ending in a small burn on her finger, Jimi was forced to take her to see Mrs. Everdeen and then home for the rest of the day. None of this was lost on Bailey and, aside from me, Reese had become his new favorite family member to tease. Reese, it turned out, had a bad temper. Worse, she only took it out on Jimi. This had drained a lot of fun out of my older brother. He seemed less happy than you would expect from a newly wed. I wondered if there were other things about Reese that had come as news to him as well. Reese remained working in the bakery, my mother utilizing her up front in sales instead. This had brought out some other interesting traits in my new sister-in-law. She was bubbly and friendly when another merchant entered the shop, but was easily annoyed by customers who had to counted out change for their bread. I thought of Katniss's initial reaction to the girl and wondered what she had seen in her. Further, I found the whole situation comical, because Katniss, who my mother refused help from, and was legendary for poor baking and people skills, would have been a superior choice to Reese. Katniss could at least pretend to like people and her cooking skills had improved considerably since our lessons. My mother, in true form, refused to be wrong, Despite Reese's inadequacies, she had insisted Reese was a wonderful addition to the bakery.

"Watch it Bai," Jimi said tersely, looking around for Reese. More than once she had come up on a conversation similar to this one and Jimi had received a slap on the arm. Once he decided the coast was clear, he spotted the remaining red on my cheeks.

"What's on your mind today little brother? Are you nervous about the Tour?" Jimi asked sincerely. I couldn't explain my true thoughts, so I nodded instead. He look sympathetic, perhaps thinking of the situation he found himself in now.

"Don't be. Katniss is great. And you two are crazy for each other," he tells me. Bailey scoffs loudly.

"Excuse me girls, I'll let you talk while I get the bred out of the oven," Bailey pushes past me roughly. I see annoyance cross Jimi's face.

"Is the middle brother getting jealous, because he hasn't caught a wife yet?" Jimi says harshly. Bailey just laughs.

"Me? Hell no! No offense brothers, I mean you got the best Twelve has to offer, but I am setting my aim higher. I'm going to work my way to District One, home of all the best ladies. Remember that Glimmer girl? That is the kind of girl I am going to marry," he says smugly. My eyes get a little unfocused as I picture Glimmer for the first time in months. I see her in my memory in the last seconds of her life. She is swollen and distorted by the tracker jackers. The image of her and idea of the venom from the creatures is too much. I must be shaking because Jimi grabs me roughly and I hear Bailey apologized quickly.

"Peeta...Peeta... are you okay?" Jimi says.

"Maybe we should get him to the Everdeen's?" Bailey suggests. This pulls me out of my terror. Katniss seeing me like this would cause her so much more stress.

"No," I say quickly, "I'll be okay." They look at me skeptically, probably waiting for an explanation.

"I'm sorry...some times memories come back...bad memories," I explain lamely. I don't think they truly understand, but no one ever can unless they have been through it. However, they drop the topic and we go back to work in silence. The day has turned to evening and my mother is preparing to close shop, when we get one more customer.

"Good evening Mr. Wells! How are you today?" I hear Reese shrill from the front.

"Very well, Mrs. Mellark," he answers. I hear Reese giggle in reply.

"Reese, I was wondering if your brother-in-law Peeta was working today?" I wonder when Reese and Wells had gotten on a first name basis. I wipe my hands on my apron and make my way to the store front without further request.

"Oh good, Peeta, Mr. Wells was just asking about you," she turns back to the older man, "Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"No, but thank you for your help," he answers. The smile he returns her is genuine and for a moment I think I catch his eyes wondering over her form, before she leaves us and heads to the back. I am irritated by his forwardness. Reese is a beautiful girl by many people's standards, although I do not see the appeal myself. Men who come into the shop are sometimes overly friendly, but his look seems to cross the line. She is a married woman.

"Mr. Mellark, the shop is closing, I trust your shift is over here?" he inquires.

"Sure," I tell him. Whatever this man wants from me is best to get out of the way now. I call my goodbyes to my family.

"Shall we head back towards Victor's Village together? I'd like to have a word," he explains. I nod and we begin our walk. The night air is cool and it feels good on my skin. Often this is the best part of my day. The time I get relief from the heat of the ovens as I head home to Katniss. But my focus is set on the lethal man beside me.

"Mr. Mellark, I have recently spoken with President Snow personally. As you may have guessed, I have a tight relationship with the leader and advisors to this nation," I think 'guessed' is too mild. Feared or dreaded would be more appropriate for the way I feel about Wells and Snow conspiring together.

"Yes, sir. I hope all is going well in the Capitol," I tell him.

"That, Mr. Mellark, is what President Snow wished me to tell you," he smirks and my heart drops. Had we done something to bring Wells down on us?

"He has been extremely happy with both you and Miss Everdeen. So much, in fact, he wants me to include you in more of the development when you return from the Tour," he continued. My heart starts again and gallops out of control. I wonder if he can hear my apprehension.

"Really?" is all I can manage.

"Yes, of course. You two have been the model citizens and the nation continues to adore you. There may even be a local position in government available to you soon," his words shock me. I wonder what Haymitch will think of this proclamation. This sounds exactly like what he had dreamed about for Katniss and I. Us weaseling our way in close to Snow. How could it all happen so quickly? What had we done so great?

"Thank you, sir. Will Katniss also be offered a position?" I wonder out loud. He laughs a little at the idea.

"I think Katniss will find herself preoccupied shortly. Perhaps in the future she will join your work, but a new wife should be at home, wouldn't you agree?" He questions me. I don't agree, especially not for Katniss. Women should be able to live their lives as they wish. Regardless of their plans, Katniss would be were I was always. I nod anyways. This is how they want me to react.

"Good, I think that also answers the next topic Snow wanted me to address," he says cryptically.

"I'm sorry Mr. Wells, I don't understand," I say

"President Snow wanted me to make sure there were no doubts about the proposal," he says.

"No," I say blandly.

"Good, then I wish you a goodnight, a safe trip, and I shall see you in a month," he smiles and gestures behind me. We are in front of my home.

"Thank you, good evening," I take my leave quickly, before he can call me back and tell me some other incredulous piece of information sent from Snow. Saying that I am beginning to expect the unexpected is a gross exaggeration. I feel like anything could happen.

I find the down stairs of my home deserted. Everyone must still be filming next door. This will allot me time to eat something and shower before I see Katniss. I find a large barrel of fresh apples in the kitchen. There seem to be enough to feed an army. Large, bright red and golden yellow, they are each a master piece. The smell of them takes me and I grab several to cut up. They are just as fresh and sweet as they look and I find some cheese to go with them. Carrying my plate with me I head up stairs intending to clean up.

I push the door of my room open with my foot as I examine my plate. I am considering running back down for bread when I catch sight of Katniss. I am startled at first my her unusual state. She is sprawled across the top of the bed, eyes closed, wearing nothing but a small pair of lace underwear and a thin strapless bra. I advance, dropping the plate as I toss it on the nearby dresser.

"It's too hot!" she whines loudly when she recognizes my arrival. I am calmed, if she can complain in such a clear voice, she is not injured in any way.

"What happened? Are you okay?" I chuckle a little at the site of her now.

"I couldn't stand the heat in all those dresses! They are all huge and meant for a winter wedding and the lights they use get so hot. I couldn't take any of it a second longer. As soon as they were finished with me, I ran over here to get away and cool off," she explains. Now that I am closer, I can see the red of her skin and the light sheen of sweat still on her. The window is wide open and the over head fan on top speed, but it has done little to comfort her yet. Poor Katniss was destine to always suffer with fashion in the hands of the Capitol. This particular pain I could not prevent. I walked to the bathroom for a wash cloth. As the sink filled with cold water, I envisioned Katniss's escape and laughed out loud.

"What so funny? I should call Portia and tell her you're ready to try on your tux!" she scowls. I run the wash cloth over her forehead and cheeks. She softens at my touch.

"Then who would be here to cool you off," I threaten, she huffs, but does not argue.

"I was just picturing you running down the street as you are now, to get away from Effie. I wonder how many builders got the pleasure of this site," she laughs with me now.

"No, I came in the dress I was in and Cinna helped me remove it. He and the cameras are still over there. Effie wanted close ups of some of the gowns features," she elaborates. I rewet the cloth in the sink and return to her. She flips over and I run it up and down her back. I unclasp the bra to cover the whole area. She sighs in relief.

"Is this helping?" I ask. She nods and then rests her head to the side. I work my way down to her legs. She is so still I think she may be sleeping, until a loud grumble issues from her stomach.

"Would you like something to eat?" I chuckle again.

"Please, Effie thought I would get something on the dresses. I haven't had anything in hours," She sits up on the bed, her bra completely falling from her. She is still to hot to care about the state of undress she is in. I bring the plate to her. She quickly scoops some goat cheese with an apple slice and pops it in her mouth.

"Where's the rolls," she teases, we both recall our meal from the cave.

"I forgot," I shrug with a smile. She doesn't seem to mind as she works her way through most of the apple. I stare entranced at the sight in front of me. She is so beautiful and the sounds of contentment she is making as she eats consume my every thought.

"Do you know how to make applesauce?" she says suddenly.

"Yes, why?" I say

"For the Tour they felt it was best to highlight our new apple fields and Effie said I should make applesauce and apple pie," she looks at me sheepishly. What she is really asking is for me to complete these tasks for her.

"Only if you help," I answer. She agrees quickly and explains the other things that need to be done the following day. My paintings should be displayed in the study of my home. Along with the apple products, I should have several fresh baked goods completed. For my speaking skill, Effie has compiled a series of interview pieces to show the audience. Katniss will be showing off the work of Madge and Cinna in her own study. But perhaps most labor intensive, the garden Katniss has been working on with Ella's help, will be harvested tomorrow. The 'small vegetable patch' as Katniss often described it, had grown to encompass most of the yard. The daily up keep was enough to keep both girls busy, but Effie wanted the Capitol to see the expert work of Katniss's labor. Every fruit and vegetable would be plucked for display. This was the one true talent Katniss was actually proud to show. Katniss informs me that the work group tomorrow will include Prim, Mrs. Everdeen, Ella, Darius, and Gale. With the sudden stress of the next day and Mr. Wells announcement baring on me, I knew I had to speak with Katniss now. I didn't want to have this conversation with others around or on the train to the Capitol. I wanted her true answer. This was the last time to get it.

"Are you okay?" she asks me. I must be showing my nerves. I take a deep breath and try to remember the speech I had composed in my head.

"I love you more than anything," I tell her. Her face crumbles. My words scare her, she fears bad news is to come.

"I'm okay, I mean everything is fine. I just wanted to talk to you. I just..." I stare into her bottomless grey eyes, still so worried.

"I just want to ask you something. I know what you have to answer in front of everyone else because of the Capitol, but I want to hear your real decision, even if it is 'no'," she tilts her head in confusion, but does not interrupt. I shift off the bed and adjust myself to kneel on one knee before her. Her eyes widen slightly in understanding, but still, she says nothing.

"Katniss Everdeen, I have loved you literally since the moment I saw you. People have tried to take that joy from me, but it is the greatest desire of my being to love you and be loved by you. I will always stand by your side. I will always give you everything I have and work tirelessly to provide you with what you want and need. I will protect you above my own health and safety. And most of all I will never take for granted how precious our life together is. It would be the greatest achievement of my life to be your husband. Will you marry me?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I am rethinking my actions. Maybe my words are too much for her, maybe not enough. She stares deep into my eyes, weighing my proposal. She does not immediately speak and I know she is doing what I have requested, she is making a real decision. What she is about to say is not directed by force, but her own will. My stomach is twisting painfully and I have the urge to stop her before she speaks. Suddenly she leans forward and captures my lips for a soft, short kiss. She rests her head on my shoulder.

"Yes, I will marry you," she answers. Hope flares in me wildly. Could she really mean it. I can help my next words.

"Real or not real?" I say hopefully

"Real," she says sincerely. I try to tell her about Wells but she waves conversation away and pulls me back to the bed to hold her. I would just have to find away to tell her tomorrow, I thought.

Chapter 29

K POV

I had spent the morning in the kitchen cutting apples. Peeta had decided this was a task I could handle. With so many apples to peel and chop, it had kept me preoccupied for hours. As I worked, Peeta collected and cooked the apple bits. By noon, he had beautifully assembled several apple pies and a large pot of applesauce. Effie and he helped me carry the items over to my house and I bid him farewell as he left to bake several more treats for the cameras.

"Try not to out shine my talents, okay?" I teased him.

"Oh, don't worry. All of Panem will know my fiance is an excellent cook," he grabbed me and planted a wet kiss on my lips. When he turned to leave, we both caught Gale in the doorway to the kitchen. Peeta offered him a warm welcome, but Gale looked surly and only managed a stiff nod. Peeta excused himself and left Gale an I in a stand off.

"Thank you for coming to help," I said to break the silence. I could see him turning over his next words and I was relieve when his voice did not sound hurt or angry.

"I needed a break from all the reading anyways," he said. I ushered him out back and we joined the group already working in the garden.

"Cinna and Madge are already here too," Prim informed me. Her fair skin was pink within minutes under the hot sun.

"Come here, you," I told her. I pulled the Capitol lotion from my own pocket and lathered it across her face.

"They're setting up your work in the study and Magde is keeping an eye on baby Rosie," she said, with eyes closed and face tilted up toward me.

"Good, I guess we better get to work as well," I said, kissing the top of her head. I dug down in the ground below me, searching for potatoes and carrots. I slowly began to fill the woven basket beside me and conversation picked up. Darius, who was just as red as Ella had said, inquired to Gale about his new career.

"How do you like working for the government?" Darius said. I was surprised there was no bitterness in his voice.

"I wouldn't really call it working. At least not like what I am use to. I have a lot more to learn before even my formal training can begin," Gale says, as he gently plucks strawberries off a vine.

"Be thankful the real work hasn't started yet. I don't miss those sixteen hour days as a Peace Keeper," Darius chuckles. I am happy to hear him so light hearted about his firing. Maybe he was truly happier working the fields.

"I would take a sixteen hour work day right about now, if I could get away from some of this math," Gale complains.

"Come on Hawthorne it can't be so bad. You finished school, after all," Ella interjects.

"It's harder when you don't have some one to show you. I was never in the advanced classes and they have already sent me five books on increasingly difficult stuff. I'm only on algebra now and I feel like an idiot," he admits sheepishly. I feel bad, he must be struggling greatly if he is willing to admit it now. Gale is not usually someone to speak of his short comings, but then again he is among friends. He might just feel comfortable to talk.

"Madge has always been excellent in math," I say with a sudden Idea.

"How is work in the fields?" Gale turns to Darius. I am not the only one to notice the lack of response, but no one mentions it. By late afternoon with the extra help, we have managed to clear the garden of all viable vegetation and groom the remaining plants to look presentable for the filming. Our arms weighed down with baskets we head into the house to wash and display the fruits of our labor. We are met in the kitchen by Cinna and Madge who are finishing a tray of sandwiches and lemonade.

"We just finished our set up and Madge thought we should bring you out something to eat and drink," explains Cinna. Madge is rocking slightly by the sink, Rosie in her arms. She has the infant lifted to her shoulder and is gently patting it's back. The act looks very natural and Madge herself seems very at ease. Without any young children in her home, I wonder where Madge has learn this action or if it is just innate to her being. Ella advances to collect the child eagerly.

"I just fed her," Madge reports as she passes the child over. We begin our decent on the food.

"Madge, I think Gale is looking for help in math," Prim suddenly exclaims, "he has very difficult tests to pass for his new job and it's really important to his family that he does well." Her words are chosen so expertly, I think she must be taking lessons from Peeta. Gale blushes slightly, but has no room to dispute the claim. Madge stares back and forth between Prim and Gale in confusion.

"Katniss told Gale what a great student you are and we all thought you should tutor him after school," Prim continues boldly. I want to laugh at her cunning. Sure, she has put a lot of words into our mouths and skated over the fact that Gale changed topics when Madge was mentioned, but she had managed to bind them in, as well. Neither could openly refuse without sounding rude in front of a room full of people nor could they call Prim out on her falsehoods, without saying she was a liar.

"Of course I could help," Madge says kindly, "if you wanted me too?" Gale visibly struggles for a moment.

"I don't want to interfere with anything Katniss might need help with," he says cooly.

"Oh no, sadly we won't be able to work with Madge for at least the next month," Cinna chimes in. Madge looks to Cinna with betrayal. Certainly she knew she would have some free time with us gone, but she was probably banking on this to get out of helping. Defeated she turned back to look directly at Gale.

"Yes, I would be happy to help," she said lightly.

"Great," Gale answered.

"Madge, you can walk with us after school and Rory and Vick will take you to the Hawthornes," Prim finished.

"Sure," said Madge, a little resigned.

We made fast work of the fruits and vegetables, but I got increasingly antsy to be with Peeta again. Soon we would be under the eyes of the Capitol and I didn't want to waste the last of our free time together. Who knew if Effie would allow us to sleep together on the train. After I had bid my guest farewell, wishing them well for the time I would spend away, I practically ran to the next house. I was met at the door by both Haymitch and Effie, who had infuriatingly agreed, that it was best I stayed at home tonight. I was allowed a single goodnight kiss. Peeta pulled me into him when our lips parted and whispered in my ear.

"I have something to tell you when we are out of ear shot," he said. Curiosity and irritation rose in me, but Effie would not be budged. The cameras would be here in the morning and it would be un-lady like to be caught traipsing home from Peeta's bed. So with my mind full of Peeta's illusive message, I was sent on my way.

It was still early, too soon for bed, and I found my mother and sister chatting in the kitchen. This I remembered was my last night for some time with them, as well. I decided not to pout and instead enjoy my family.

My mother made us a meal of delicious fresh salad and fruit from our days work. Prim offered some goat cheese and we discussed which dresses they had liked the best. My mother and Prim's excitement was tangible and I quickly found myself spilling the events of the night past. My mothers eyes filled with tears as I told them about Peeta's proposal and Prim burrowed into me with joy. As the night wore on, we lingered in our spots, no one wanting the time together to end. I even allowed Prim to weave my hair into two braids to match her own. When I finally went up to my room, I was happy when a light knock came minutes later.

"Katniss," Prim pushed her small face through the gap in the door, "would it be okay if I slept in here tonight. I just thought it might be the last time..." I smiled at the suggestion and welcomed her with open arms.

"It won't be the last time, little duck," I kissed her cheek, "I'll be home soon."

We cuddled down under the sheet together. I always felt so young lying with my sister. It reminded me of simpler times. Times when our biggest concerns were hunger. The idea is laughable now. I would take my seam life any day over the unpredictability of Snow.

I studied her face, memorizing each feature. A month was a long time. I wondered if she would look different when I returned. Her mind was becoming more grown up by the day. I remembered how she had navigated the exchange between Madge and Gale with precision. No child I knew was that manipulative.

"Prim, why did you push the tutoring with Gale and Madge," I asked with genuine curiosity.

"For a few reasons," she smirked.

"What reasons?" I inquired.

"Well, for one, everyone is really worried about the testing, you, me, Rory, Gale," she lists off, "And second I think they like each other." I scoff loudly. Prim's eyes are wide with shock.

"Trust me Gale and Madge hate one another. Why do you think they resist being around each other so much?" I say

"Because they haven't gotten to know each other yet. Plus Gale is still getting over you," she explains, as if it is the most obvious observation in the world. I shake my head.

"You are wise beyond your years Prim, but on this, you are wrong," I declare stubbornly.

"We'll see," she refuses to concede. We giggle over the whole thing, both thinking the other too silly to see the truth of the situation.

"Katniss," she asks suddenly "will you move in with Peeta when you get married?" worry creases her face.

"We haven't talked about that yet," I say honestly.

"Do you think Peeta would want to live here with us?" she wonders hopefully.

"Wouldn't you get sick of us, if we were both around all the time?" I tease her. she shakes her head and I can't help but smile. It does sound comforting, but I can't promise.

"I'll ask Peeta what he thinks, but they might want us to live on our own. You know, for the cameras," I explain. She nods in understanding and I hum her to sleep.

The next day is a flurry of excitement I spend the morning preparing with Cinna and then most of the afternoon showcasing all my new talents. Effie stops in several times to up date us on schedule changes, but I don't see Peeta and I am still left wondering about last nights message. They end our segments, as they had last time, with me running into Peeta's arms. This time he catches me and the kiss we share is real and full of my love for him.

We board the train and in true Haymitch fashion, he strolls to the bar and picks up the most expensive looking bottle available. I roll my eyes but don't chid him. I have the more pressing issue to consider. What had Peeta wanted to say to me? I would not wait any longer than the next stop of the train and then I would drag him out of the car and he would spill.

The evening wore on and I was beginning to think we wouldn't stop until we arrived in District Eleven. I sat stubbornly by the window, watching for signs of slowing. Haymitch stayed close nursing his chosen bottle and I got the feeling he was watching us. Finally the train slid to a stop and I jumped to my feet. Before I could reach for Peeta's hand, Haymitch interrupted.

"Time for a stretch kids," he says, ushering us to the door.

Chapter 30

P POV

Haymitch's face is a mask of drunken glee until we depart from the train and make it just past the last car. He rounds on us suddenly and I see an intense anger in his eyes I have only seen during the war.

"We're you two going to tell me about your little conversation with Wells or are you with the Capitol now?" Haymitch shoots out fiercely. Katniss only has time to look surprised before he is on me, grabbing my collar roughly and shaking me.

"I told you boy, there is a lot at stake. I have put my neck out for you two and swore over and over that you were not the Capitol's people. That damn well better be the case or I'll end you right here," Haymitch swears in a whisper. Katniss has collected herself and is attempting to pull Haymitch off me.

"Get your hands off him, Haymitch. I don't know what you are talking about, he hasn't even had time to tell me yet" she explains. His grip loosens but he doesn't let go.

"Get to talking fast boy," Haymitch spits.

"I don't know what you think you saw or heard, but he came to get me at the bakery," I begin cautiously.

"What I saw was you and our new Project Manager looking very comfortable together," he says. I shake my head. Katniss's own anger peaks at his words. Of course Haymitch couldn't know of our past, but the one thing we would never be was cozy with any Official from the Capitol. In her rage she shoves him hard and he stumbles away from me, almost falling to the ground.

"You listen to me now,' she seethes, "Peeta and I have done everything you have asked us to do. We have followed all the plans from Snow and paraded around acting proud of the Capitol. If you saw Peeta talking to Wells and thought he looked friendly, it was because we have been following your orders. You can ask us whatever you want, we're not the ones keeping secrets. But don't you ever, EVER say we belong to the Capitol. I would die before I would side with Snow!" Katniss is panting slightly by the end of her speech. Haymitch smirks.

"And **that** is the Mocking Jay I want to follow," he says, Katniss scowls at the reference, but the situation has been defused for now. I quickly tell them about the conversation two nights prior.

"He came to the bakery and asked me to walk back to Victor's Village with him. He said the Capitol was really pleased with both Katniss and I. And that when we returned from the Tour, Katniss, as a new wife, would be in the home, but offered me a place in the local government. He told me they wanted me to have a larger part in the new development and then he checked to make sure I understood I was suppose to propose on the Tour. I agreed with all of it and thanked him for the opportunity. What else could I say? I figured this is what you were hoping for. I really was going to tell you, but it just came at a bad time. If you and Effie hadn't pushed Katniss out of the house last night, I might have been able to tell you both then, Haymitch." Katniss looks disgusted, but Haymitch is speculative.

"Why would I be stuck in the house? I'm going everywhere you are," she echos my feelings.

"Have you ever seen a female Official?" Haymitch asks. We both shake our heads.

"Snow is a bit of a chauvinist. If he had it his way, all women would be chained to the stove. Thankfully, there are still a lot of rich older ladies left in the Capitol to sway him," he explains. I can see the truth in his words, certainly I wouldn't put it past Snow, but I wasn't sure how this new information played into all his ambiguous messages to the nation.

"But that's not what is bothering me. The question we should all be asking is which city council member will they pick off to make room for Peeta?" Haymitch questions. The horn from the train sounds impatiently and the attendant pokes his head from the train door to call for us.

"We have earned your trust. You **will** tell us more soon," Katniss demands. I wonder if he can read the depth of friendship from our last life in her eyes.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I can guarantee that soon enough you will be chalk full with all kinds of information the Capitol would kill you for," he laughs with a sick humor and we have to make our way back before the attendant descends the carriage to get us.

Effie greets us with an itinerary for the next day, but Katniss cuts her off.

"Peeta will be in my room tonight. We will see you all in the morning," she proclaims. I take her hand and allow her to lead me down the hall. I try not to laugh at the incredulous look on poor Effie's face.

Once the door is closed Katniss strips out of the sundress and removes her bra. Rummaging in the dresser, she finds a large t-shirt and pulls it over her head. She is in deep thought, no doubt wondering about Haymitch's words. But it's no use speculating more tonight, nothing else can be said. She turns down the bed and lies on top of the sheet.

"Come to bed," she commands.

"I don't know how I feel about this new demanding Katniss," I laugh a little, but unfasten my own shirt buttons and belt buckle.

"What do you mean?" she wonders.

"You're a lot more confident and determined in your young age," I tell her.

"Really?" she asks. "I didn't realize I had changed."

"Not changed really, more returned, I think."

"Isn't that a good thing?" she questions.

"Well, for Haymitch, no. You two fall into a power struggle anytime you are in the same room. But for me, yes," I explain.

"And why is it so good for you," she smirks.

"You still don't realize the affect you have on people. Plus, you are very sexy when you're ordering others around," I say tentatively.

"Is that so? How do you feel about me ordering you around?" she teases.

"I generally do what you tell me, don't I?" I smirk a little.

"I'm still waiting for you," she says lightly. I strip down to my boxers and crawl to the top of the bed, suspending my body over hers. She shifts to rub against me and I can see where this will go, but I like the new game too much to stop so soon.

"Now, what would you like from me?" I question with my eyebrows lifted innocently. She captures my lips aggressively and pulls me down to her. Excitement builds in the pit of my stomach. I want to touch her everywhere, but I wait for her words. Our lips break.

"Make me come," she whispers. I need no more prompting. I lavash her face and neck with kisses. I suck on a spot under her ear and moan at the taste of her. Her warm, tan skin is sweet and salty, it reminds me of sunshine. I run my hand through her loose locks and can smell the soft scent of lavender.

I feel her own hands move below me. She caresses the muscles of my stomach and passes down to the front of my underwear. The response of her touch is instantaneous. I almost feel light headed by the sudden movement of blood to my throbbing groin. She weaves her hand in my boxers and begins to massage me. As she runs her fingers over the head of my shaft, my intentions blur. I am losing focus quickly.

I counter her movements and find her center with my hand. She is warm and wet. I wonder how much of her excitement is my touch and how much has come from the conversation we have just had. Her body is more than accommodating to the two fingers I press into her. She arches with the initial penetration and moans loudly. I have to cover her mouth to muffle the noise. I couldn't bare the look on Effie's face if she came to check on us now.

I pump in and out of her as she grips me with increasing force. The sounds that issue from us come as moans or winded breaths. I feel the heat between our bodies build as we move together in unison. Her hard nipples, which rise from under the material of her shirt, are skimmed along my own bare chest and she whines in want. We are racing each other now to climax. I feel my muscles tense, I know I will finish first, but I want her to follow. With my skilled hand I carefully rub my thumb over her swollen nub. She shudders under me. The subtle change in the friction against me is my undoing. I come hard, but do my best to continue my rhythm in her. She is shaking now and I know it won't be long. I am still panting at her shoulder when I feel her insides close tightly around my hand.

Katniss sighs in satisfaction and curls her body into mine. I rub her back until I feel the shaking of her small frame cease. Sleep finds us soon and it is a peaceful night, until the loud knock that wakes us before sunrise.

Effie informs us we will be in Eleven before noon and we are to each meet with our designers to prepare. We are buffed, polished, and dressed, before being pushed out of the train and into the crowds of the District. Even though we are not met by armed guards, people still seem hesitant to receive us.

That first day is the hardest for Katniss. The presence of Rue's family, red eyed and morose, is almost too much for her to hold her composure. Moving up the Tour would make facing each of the tributes families that much harder. Three months to accept the death of a child was absurd. I spoke mostly, Katniss nodding in agreement at the right places. I carefully chose each word, weighing the affects on the grieving individuals before me and the watching eyes of Snow in the Capitol. The crowd claps politely at our words, but they feel insufficient. Katniss's grip tightens in my hand and I know her thoughts. There is more she wants to say and do for Rue, but we had learned the first time that speaking openly would get people killed. Katniss excuses herself once inside the city building and returns for dinner with her make-up smudged slightly. No one makes notice, but I try my best to comfort her.

That night we return to the train to sleep. I cling to her, but the nightmares come wave after wave. Eventually I stop asking her to tell me. Every image is of Rue's last moments, her small body broken and bloody. When daylight breaks we are already awake and exhausted from the sleepless night. We pull ourselves up and begin what Effie call 'the review of progress'. Many of the DIstricts, like Twelve, have experienced changes in the past months. Snow feels it is an excellent time for us to showcase the developments. Today Chaff, Haymitch's old friend shows us and a group of cameras around several new fields and a cluster of new homes being assembled. Peeta, in interview style, asks Chaff about the results of the Capitols 'great generosity', and Chaff in uncharacteristic tact, politely gushes about the state of his home District.

Post filming we were invited to dine with Chaff at his home. Effie quickly declines and we soon discovered why. Chaff, a bachelor like Haymitch, lives alone and keeps the house about as well as him. Still, the conversation over a simple meal is nice. Chaff even pulls a few laughs out of Katniss. No mention of Snow or the illusive plans from the Capitol are made, but several times I feel Chaff's eyes on me. I wonder if he is trying to root out the true intensions of Katniss and I. Was Chaff part of a secret rebellion or just another mentor sizing up his future competition? Was he, like Haymitch. deciding whether we, Capitol Mocking Jays, could be trusted? I tried to think of a way to convey our true feelings, but the night came to an end before I could figure out how.

When we left the home, both Chaff and Haymitch were heavy with drink. Chaff carries the remains of a bottle in one hand as he escorts us back to the train platform. We slow our walking to match there gait, but are pushed ahead by the urging of Haymitch. We reach the train just yards ahead of the men, but Haymitch does not join us. When the attendant has his head turned away, I steal a glance out the window. The formerly stumbling men, stand strait, deep in conversation, just out of ear shot. They speak quickly, with a purpose. I spot Haymitch's scowl and wondered what Chaff has said to offend his old friend. Was it bad news? Or has Chaff found Katniss and I untrustworthy? The train horn sounds, calling for our departure and I pull my face out of view. When Haymitch joins us, moments later, he has adapted his traditional drunken facade.

The days that followed are a whirl wind of activity. Our schedule is laid out in two to three day increments to spend in each District. The first day is always set aside for formal festivities, the second, District review. With each passing District a new Victor and new developments are presented to us. Katniss and I decide these could be clues to Snow's underlying plan and each night we recite them back and forth in whispers to remember. The list grows and the repetition helps memory, however, we fail to see a pattern. In general, each District seems to be getting a boost in whatever they manufactured prior. District Ten was using hormones to stimulate cattle reproduction; Eight was scheduled to open two more textile plants, and home of lumber; District Seven was moving miles north to clear more trees. Slowly but surely, we make our way to the Capitol. We met several more Victor, and I continued to have the feeling we were being sized up. However, most were not as forward as Johanna Mason.

Maybe it was the fresh scent of pine and the woods similar to home or maybe the presents of Johanna herself, that made us feel welcome in the District. Either way we found the start of our viewing day in Seven pleasant. Johanna gave us a tour of the Districts new work area with a Capitol worthy smile. Between takes we picked up easy conversation. She asked politely about our travels and how we were adjusting to life as Victors. She still teased and joked, but it felt like we were with an old friend instead of a new acquaintance. It made me miss Johanna Mason from my past life greatly. After the war, Johanna had become a permanent fixture in our lives. We kept in frequent contact through letters and the occasional visit. When a memory or feeling from my time in the Capitol threatened to overwhelm me, I would sometimes call on her. She was the one person, besides Katniss, who truly understood and could reassure me in the way I needed. After the cameras had left us in Seven, Johanna had volunteered a meal for us. Katniss, Haymitch and I accepted and she led the way to her home. By the time we arrived at the large log cabin, Johanna had once described to me, I was fooled into thinking we had won her over. I should have known better. Nothing was ever this easy with Johanna.

"All out of wood for the stove," she proclaims loudly, once in the kitchen, "Come on Everdeen let me show you how to work an ax." Without further cause, she grabs Katniss by the arm and we follow in their wake to several large trees out back. She places Katniss near an oak and Johanna brandishs her ax.

"You have to hold it in your hands securely, don't be shy," she shoots a smirk in my direction, "you should have no problem with all your experience." Katniss's face floods with embarrassment, but she remains quiet. We had long since learn that teasing Katniss about our sex life was a favorite pass time of Johanna's, the easiest way to avoid further jokes was not to respond.

"The key is in your stance and follow through," she places her feet and swings, taking a large chunk at the base. Haymitch, at my side, eyes Johanna, but does not halt the progress of the lesson. Does he know what is coming?

"Your turn," Johanna ushers Katniss forward and shoves the ax into her chest. Katniss is still in the dress Cinna had picked for her this morning, but it doesn't faze her. Katniss, irritated and stubborn, does not shy away from the challenge. She repeats the stance, but her own swing barely sticks into the tree.

"See now, it's a lot harder than people think," Johanna says with an air of mock understanding. She approaches Katniss, pulling the ax roughly from her hands.

"It's too bad my last tribute hadn't caught up with you, he would have made easy work of getting a little squirrel like you out of that tree," Johanna sneers. I am shocked, this is bold even for her.

"Not if I would have gotten him with my bow first," Katniss retorts. Their is silence and then Johanna recoils in anger. For a moment I fear she will tackle Katniss and I take a step to separate them. Haymitch raises an arm to block me. But Johanna doesn't pounce, instead she grabs Katniss's arm again and whispers loudly in her ear.

"Is that what you are going to do to us all, little girl, hide in the trees and then shoot us in the back?" she interrogates. Katniss pulls away from her. She is not scared, but enraged. It was just what we had suspected. This was all a test. Once again we had done such a good acting job, even our allies thought us traitors.

"No," she says, her voice like ice, "I know were my loyalty lies. If you can trust Haymitch, you can trust me and Peeta. I have only done what has been asked of me."

"We'll see, girl on fire," she says.

The topic is dropped and Johanna plasters on a fake smile for dinner, but a mood settles over Katniss. She feels attacked and misunderstood. She wants her intensions known, her hate for the Capitol to be seen, but so closely watched, we have to settle with small statements like the one she told Johanna.

The nights that follow are quiet and her bad mood remains all the way to District Four, were we are met with the biggest surprises the Tour has to offer.

_Sorry about the delay in update! For you that follow me, you know I try to update daily or every other day, but I had a long weekend at work. Also, I wanted to tell you that the last few chapter have been necessary to build the story and highlight some of the existing relationships, but expect more excitement (And probably some more ambiguous actions or law changes from Snow) soon. Thank you again for those of you who have reviewed, your encouragement is wonderful! But I have been curious what you all think about certain aspects of the story: What do you think of the characters? Are they true to form or do I need to work on something? Do you find the plot well balanced? Or do I need more of something, i.e. drama, romance, adventure, smut? Is there anything confusing or you think I need to clarify (even if it is chapters back)? Have I made any mistakes in the Hunger Games world that need to be addressed? If you have thoughts on any of these I would love to hear from you! It will definitely help me write a better story. Thank you, Jules_


	9. Section 9

Time does not heal all wounds. After the war Katniss struggles to move forward and embrace a new life with Peeta, but can't overcome the ghosts of her past. Will the chance to go back result in a better future or end with the same results?

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

A big thank you to all the people who have reviewed. I love the encouragement and love to hear what you think. I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! And**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

Chapter 31

K POV

I try to nibble on toast at breakfast. My stomach feels heavy from the night prior. District Four, in true form, had laid out an elaborate buffet of sea food for us to dine on. Recklessly, I had ignored several carefully placed comments from Peeta about moderation, and I had greedily plowed through two platefuls. We had the occasional freshwater fish back home in Twelve, but it could not compare to the sea creatures they were able to capture here. It was a true treat to enjoy such food and even now, I was hoping my stomach would settle enough to eat more later. What Victor's home would we be at tonight? I fleetingly wished to see Finnick, but thought it unlikely. Four was the beginning of the career districts, there would be plenty of Victor's for the Capitol to pick from.

It was surprisingly hot for the third week in September. I should have expected it, even on our first Tour, when we had come in the winter seasons it was much warmer than home. I didn't think snow ever fell here. Maybe this was there secret to growing winners, the good weather and hearty food.

With the heat Cinna, has allowed some wardrobe concessions for today. I now sat much more comfortably and casual than usual. The shorts and T-shirt were light weight. My hair is in it's traditional braid and my face mostly bare. I had won the last two amendments, complaining loudly that I would sweat it all off anyways. All in all, I had gotten my way and I was trying to be optimistic about the day. It had been a week since seeing Johanna Mason and I was sure the occupants of the train were tiring of my surly attitude. Peeta's mood, for the most part, seemed unaffected, but I could hear the stress and worry in his voice, especially as he tucked me in each night. The memorization game had stopped and I spoke little. What was the point in trying when people would read whatever they wanted in my words and actions?

"Time to meet the next Victor," Effie clapped her hands together from the head of the table. I sighed and Haymitch across from me grumbled, but we all rose and followed Effie off the train. Peeta took my hand and I willingly wrapped my fingers in his. The sun was bright and my eyes took a moment to adjust. Not one, but two people came into focus before me. My heart leapt, Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta stood before us hand and hand.

"Welcome to District Four," Finnick cooed in his sugary Capitol voice. I wanted to laugh and tell him to bring out the real Finnick, but I registered the camera at my side and knew this was the version of him Snow wanted to see. Regardless of the show he was putting on, I was happy to see him. He looked healthy and beamed with joy. It was the look you only found when Annie was by his side.

"Peeta, Katniss, Haymitch, it's nice to see you all again. Allow me to introduce someone to you, this is Annie, my wife," he says, voice tight with pride. The shock of the good news is plain on our faces. Haymitch collects himself first, reaching a hand out to Finnick.

"Well that's good new's," he says gruffly, "when was it approved?" I ponder his words. Finnick and Annie were both adults, what needed to be approved?

"President Snow, himself, gave his blessing a month ago," Finnick tells him, "you'll probably see our ceremony aired after the Tour." It all clicked. I knew Finnick had always wanted to marry his Annie, but they only were allowed once they arrived in Thirteen. It must have been Snow preventing it for years. Holding deadly threats over Annie and selling Finnick in the Capitol. The idea of two Victors marrying must be popular in Panem. I wondered if Snow would force others marriages to film to show off? Maybe they would run weekly segments running up to my own wedding, the grand finale. Snow would call it a sign of healing and progress. He would tell the nation that we, Victors, knew the value of family and encourage the Districts to follow suit. I should be disgusted at the manipulation Snow has over these people, but watching the pure joy in Finnick's beautiful sea green eyes, I can't spare worry or anger over the President. I only have happiness for my old friends. They, more than anyone deserve this.

Haymitch gently takes Annie's hand as well, to congratulate her. She smiles tentatively up at us from under her long flowing hair. She is calm, but eyes the camera wearily. I make a mental note to be extra careful with my words. Annie was kind and loving, but fragile. The Capitol, the games, and any talk of violence set her off. The citizens were probably having a hard enough time swallowing the lost of their heart throb, they didn't need to see his new wife in a meltdown.

We exchange greetings. Annie quietly welcomes us and I try not to hug anyone. At home I had excuses for embracing and cherishing the living ghosts of my past. Here, Finnick would not understand my friendliness after only meeting once. We are escorted into town and toward the docks along the coast. The warm sun and salty wind wipes away the last of my bad mood and I pull Peeta close to share in my elation. After showing off several new, Capitol built fishing boats, Finnick points to a place yards away.

"Next, I'd like to show you our greatest pride, here in District Four," Finnick says for the camera. I look ahead, but my sight cannot make sense of what I see. Men are at work, just off shore, on a structure, but it is too large to be a fishing boat. This contraption, assembled with steel, looks more like the factory going up in our own District.

"What is it, Finnick," I can't help asking as we near it.

"This Miss Everdeen is the future of District Four's industry. The Capitol has generously commissioned this marvel of technology. This ship, once completed will be able to remain at sea for months, collecting and storing food safely. Bunks, below it's main level, can house hundreds of men to work. With this new vessel, it is projected we will be able to triple our seafood export. Soon oysters, clams, and fish of all varieties will be readily available to everyone in Panem," he says, as if reading from a script, which I am sure he is.

Peeta and I gawk at the immensity of the structure before us. What kind of fish need hundreds of men to catch? Surely a ship this size could hold several full grown whales, but I didn't think creatures that size were considered a delicacy. How far did this ship need to travel to find food? Was there a problem with sea life in the immediate area? That seemed unlikely, the fisherman we had past so far seemed adequately weighed down with the fruits of their labor. Or was this just another clue in the scramble of Snow's true intentions? This was the likeliest scenario and also the most frustrating. I packed this new information away in the back of my head as we finished the segment and the camera men prepared to leave us for the night.

Annie, who has remained silent all day, tugs lightly on finnick's arm until he lowers his ear to her lips.

"I don't think they learn how to in Twelve," he says to her, gently brushing her hair back from her face. She blushes a little and looks at the ground.

"Is everything okay?" Peeta asks kindly.

"Yes," says Finnick, "we are suppose to invite you to dinner now, but Annie had another idea."

"We're open to suggestions," Peeta tells him. I can't agree more. The day has been unexpected and wonderful. The good weather, old friends, and happy news make it easy to forget everything else. I wish it didn't have to end. I was already dreading the last three Districts. If our reception was poor last time, I felt sure it would be worst now, so soon after the games.

"This time of year the water is very warm, it's Annie's favorite season," he explains, "we usually swim this time of day. But I didn't think you would know how."

"We can, I mean we would love to," I say quickly. I have missed my little pond greatly, and although the sea will undoubtedly feel different, it's another gift the day has given us. Haymitch rolls his eyes complaining loudly about the silliness of youth. He bids us goodnight and follows the camera men back to the train, siting his need for a drink. I try not to be startled when Annie grabs my hand excitedly.

"I have extra bathing suits," she tells me in a soft voice, eyes filled with excitement. I nod and beam back at her. She leads the way to a large house right on the water. Three levels of balconies shoot out over the sea. It's wooden panels are faded with sun and salt water, but it smells like fresh air. The sun, setting over the water, cast rainbows of color. I catch Peeta examining the perfect shade of orange reflected out to us. I can already see him at home recreating this moment. It's no wonder Finnick longed for this place, we were in paradise. I wonder how it would be to live here with Peeta, but then I thought of the rolling mountain views of Twelve and my family waiting, homesickness rose in my chest.

Inside the house, Annie directs me to the biggest bedroom on the second floor. She pulls out several options and hands them to me. I grimace slightly, they are all two piece sets. I try to smile politely and pick the least revealing of the bunch. Growing up surrounded by water probably did not encourage modesty, but in Twelve I wouldn't be caught dead in public wearing something like this.

"That's one of my favorites too," she tells me. I search my mind for a safe topic of conversation.

"You have a beautiful home, Annie," I say

"Thank you, but it's really Finnick's house," she says. There is a pause were she considers her next words.

"We're allowed to stay here together now. It's wonderful," she confides in me. I smile again and my heart warms.

"I know how you feel, Peeta and I are not really allowed to stay together yet either," I say. She looks sad for me.

"Is Snow going to let you get married too?" she asks hopefully.

"Yes," I say confidently.

"That's good, it's hard to be apart," Annie tells me wisely. Her face is creased with anxiety suddenly and I worry I have done something wrong.

"I really like you and Peeta," she tells me, "it wasn't so bad having to watch that part of the games." I am horrified by the direction of the conversation. Annie Cresta, fragile girl, driven mad by her own games, was subjected to the mandatory viewings just like the rest of us. She shifted uncomfortably and I saw tears pooling in her eyes. I scramble for words again.

"We really like you and Finnick too," I say sincerely. She smiles and I sigh in relief. She leaves me to dress and I navigate the suit on to my body. It fits well and is comfortable, but I pull back on my top for more coverage. Once Annie returns, a large towel wrapped around her body, we join the boys downstairs. Peeta and Finnick are dressed identically in swim shorts and Finnick supports a large basket, I assume holding dinner, in one arm. He eyes me wearily and motions for Annie. It is not the same look we have gotten in other Districts, questioning our alliances. This is one of Finnicks other looks, reserved for when Annie is in his presents. He appraises me and my intentions, then looks to his wife, under his free arm, for signs of distress. He must not find any because his friendly nature returns and he shows us to his favorite spot on the water.

Annie drops her towel almost at once and runs with glee towards the ocean. Her long chestnut brown hair swings behind her and the smooth muscles of her arms and legs flex with each movement. She is a great beauty in her own right and it is easy to see what Finnick loves about her, besides her pure heart and gentle nature. The sight of her fit, yet curvy form, makes me thankful I have my shirt still on. Finnick roars in laughter at the sight of this wild girl and jogs after her. They meet in the water and tumble into the waves. When they resurface, their lips have already met. The urgency in their movements seems too intimate for spectators and I turn away. I search for Peeta momentarily, but I don't have to look far. His gaze is already fixed on me. He smirks as he comes near.

"Do I get to see your suit," he asks. I flush and try to turn away but he pulls me to him. His skin is still hot from the day and I see the red of a sunburn coming out already. His bright blue eyes stand out under his long golden lashes and I gasp slightly at the intensity of his stare.

"No, I don't look as good in borrowed clothes as you do," I say. The trunks are a little big on him and most of his skin is still very fare, but you can see the tell tale ripple of muscle on his arms and his flat stomach. I run my hands over his abdomen to accentuate my point.

"I don't think I can hold a candle next to Odair," he chuckles.

"I disagree," I kiss him lightly.

"That surprises me. Didn't you two share sugar and secrets at one time," he teases. I try to scrunch my face in an offended expression, but the memory brings a round of laughter too great. Annie calls to us from the sea and I finally am forced to strip off my shirt. Peeta gives me an approving nod and a pat on the bottom, that draws out another blush. I pay him back by dunking him several times once we reach the water.

"So you can swim," Finnick's voice echos over the waves, "Where did you learn that in District Twelve?"

"We have big bath tubs," I joke back. We all laugh.

Once we have had our fill of salt water, we meet on shore to eat. The basket is full of crab cakes and fish and chips. The food is delicious, even cold, but I show more restraint today and only have one portion of each. I take my time savoring each mouth full. Annie takes small bites between the fast work of her fingers. When we came out of the sea she had darted to the house and returned with a dozen colorful strains of thread. She is quiet as she weaves the various colors into one another in an intricate pattern. Finnick watches her curiously, but doesn't question it. When the sun has completely left us, Peeta and Finnick start a small fire together. I lay on my back and take in the view of the open sky.

"These are for you," Annie says. I sit up and find Annie holding out two thin ropes of bright colors to Peeta and I.

"Thank you," says Peeta, reaching for his own.

"It's a tradition here in Four," she tells us, "it means you belong to someone. So even if you are far apart, whether by sea or land, you are tied together." I notice a similar rope around to her own ankle. The strings are worn and fraying in some places. I wonder how many years Annie and Finnick have been tied together, but separated by the Capitol.

"Thank you, Annie," I say. I take the bracelet in my hand and start to fix it on my own ankle.

"No," Finnick says suddenly, "you put them on each other." We follow his command and take turns tying the ropes on each other.

"And now you kiss," orders Annie, with a giggle. We laugh a little ourselves, as Peeta brings his lips to mine. He parts my lips slowly and I can taste the salt on his tongue before we pull away. Annie giggles more.

"I don't think it means the same thing in Twelve, babe," Finnick tells her, but smiles none the less.

"What does it mean?" Peeta inquires.

"For us, it is similar to an engagement. It's like Annie said, men going off to sea give them to their girls to remember them by. If they return, they marry," Finnick explains. His face is turned out to the water before him, deep in thought. Annie's small frame sits between his legs.

The hour must be late and I wonder if, even now, Effie is impatiently waiting for us to leave. Peeta must think the same as I do, because he rises to his feet and begins our farewells. I feel the top of my head, which is now matted into a knot of half dried hair. The only solution is to wet it again. I excuse myself and in waist high water I dunk my head repeatedly. When I come up the final time, flipping my hair back to braid, I an startled to see Finnick before me in the moon light.

"Chaff didn't buy it and Johanna was only half convinced," he speaks with out preamble. I stand shocked and wait for more.

"Annie doesn't trust many people. She has always had a better eye for truth and lies than me. She sees through to a person's real intentions and for whatever reason, she believes you and Peeta are friends to us," he informs me.

"I trust Annie too, but what do you think of me Odair?," I ask him.

"I think if you are a friend of Annie's, than you might be good enough to be a friend of mine," he says.

"I'd like to be considered a friend," I say honestly. He nods, but struggles internally for a minute.

"After the Tour you will be asked to stay in the Capitol to celebrate your engagement as a fundraiser for District development. Two nights after the formal end of the Tour, the event will be held. Myself and other Victors will be in attendance. This will be our only chance to meet in person before the Quell. Involved people, from each district and the Capitol, will gather after midnight. You and Peeta should stick by Haymitch when the time gets close, he will know where to take you. I think you are smart enough to have some idea of what is going on, but all will be explained then. You earned this trust, but it is breakable. Don't get yourself or anyone else killed because I have told you," he chuckles suddenly, despite the seriousness of his speech, "if you think you have seen the bad side of Johanna, you are sorely mistaken."

"Peeta and I understand," I answer.

"Good, welcome to the new rebellion," he says reaching a large hand out to me. I take it and try to put all my confidence into the gesture.

Chapter 32

P POV

Effie was furious when we returned to the train. She shouted at us about proper etiquette and keeping on schedule, but she was not able to get a rise out of Katniss. This is when I first realized something had changed. She was preoccupied in her own thoughts and had no way to share them with me. I tried to be patient. Without knowing the cause of stress, I acted normal around our team and tried to comfort her anxiety in private. Effie's immediate rage subsided some, but our backed up schedule did not allow for many stops. The few we did have, Effie ordered us away from the car doors, saying we would put everything back further by going out for a walk. I was at my wits end by the night we left District two.

It had been a particularly long two days. The greeting crowd for District Two barely managed applauses and I thought I heard Clove's mother curse at me under her breath. The only highlight was the brief visit with my brother Bailey on the second day. It turned out not much development was needed in Two, so our Review taping focused on the facilities already in place. Late in the afternoon we toured a large Peace Keeper base and Effie had the idea to request my brother. He looked tired and overworked, but healthy. He had put on weight in the two weeks since his arrival here, but had lost some of his humor. Once or twice he even answered me as 'sir'. He didn't have a destination set for after training, but he promised to write and I, in turn, promised to say hello to everyone back in Twelve for him.

We are not invited to dinner with Enobaria, which Effie loudly scoffs at, but I am thankful for. Instead we dine on a lavish meal in the train. Less than an hour out the train slows, the conductor announcing a needed repair. Effie is beside herself again and flutters out of the compartment. Once she is out of view I grab Katniss and motion for Haymitch to follow. We exit the train and find ourselves in a barren terrain of sand and scarce plant life. I ignore my unusual surroundings and try to focus on the task at hand.

"What happened?" I asked

"Finnick cornered me on the last night in Four. They trust us now, at least enough. We are going to have to stay in the Capitol for an engagement party and at the end of the night we will be invited to a meeting to explain everything. Haymitch is suppose to take us," she gestures to him. Haymitch looks board and finishes the last of a wine glass he has carried with him.

"Thanks for keeping me in the loop kids," he says a little condescendingly. A retort is at the tip of my tongue. Hadn't he just scolded me for not telling him things? Katniss shoots me a warning look and I stop myself.

"It's a nightmare out here, I see you inside," he staggers back to the door. Once he's inside Katniss wraps her arms around my neck and whispers in my ear.

"Finnick said 'welcome to the new rebellion'," she exclaims. A million questions and worries circle my mind. This must be what has consumed her.

"They are still trying to over throw snow?" I ask hopefully

"I assume, but it's all so vague still," she says

"Do you think they are working with Coin again?" I wonder.

"I guess we'll know soon enough, but it makes me sick," she confesses.

"I feel like it's history repeating, maybe you can take them both out with one arrow again," there is no tease to my voice.

"What if they get to you again, or Prim," her voice trembles.

"No, Snow and Coin won't hurt us this time, we know their tricks and what they are capable of. We're better prepared," I tell her.

"It might not make a difference," she shakes slightly. She is losing her nerve. Days of stewing over this information have brought her to this point. All pretense of strength is falling away. The damaged girl left after the war, stands before me now. I pull away and take her face in my hands, willing my own determination into her.

"We already have! And we are not giving up now," I say fiercely. I stare deep into her eyes. They swim with apprehension, but I don't break away until she nods in acceptance. I rest my forehead on hers.

"How did I do this before without you," she says, the question is rhetorical, but I answer anyways.

"You didn't," I laugh a little, "you pulled me into your room with you."

"I don't know if I like all these newly found memories of yours Mellark," she teases.

"You better get use to it because I have years of material to hold over you now," I taunt her. We laugh together and she pulls me against her again.

"I love you," she says simply

"I love you," I reply.

District One is as bad as Two and it is actually a relief to return to the Capitol. On our arrival we are taken to the twelfth floor of the training center were I find a peculiarly peaceful night with Katniss in my arms. I am startled in the morning when the red haired avox girl wakes me. She places a finger to her lips and hands me a note.

_Peeta, _

_Please meet me early for tonight's preparations. _

_I'll wait in the dining room._

_~Portia_

I extricate my limbs from around Katniss without waking her. I pull on my clothes from the day prior and ask the avox girl to write Katniss a note about my whereabouts. She smiles and nods. Portia is at the table as promised and quickly plies me with eggs, bacon, and a large cup of hot coco.

"I must look pretty bad lately if we need to get started before Katniss and Cinna," I say. She laughs and flashes her brilliant white teeth at me.

"No, you look handsome as ever, but we have some shopping to do before tonight," she informs me. This was new, usually I had no say in my wardrobe and everything was already assembled by the time I arrived. She sees the puzzled look on my face.

"President Snow wanted to give you and Katniss an early engagement present. He has arranged me to take you to a near jewelry shop to pick out an engagement ring and wedding bands," she tells me.

"That's not..." I search for a word appropriate. Not...sensible, common, wanted? Few women in Twelve had such a luxury and I didn't think it was traditional in the Everdeen family. Even amoung the merchants it was usually not seen. The only man I could think of with a band was the Mayor and that was more to fit in with visiting Officials, than his own citizens. Truthfully, I thought Katniss and I were just as happy with our new woven ankle bracelets. However, I am wise enough to realize this offer is not to be turned down. If it was from Snow, the decision was already made for me.

"It's not necessary. That's too great a gift," I say.

"He thought you might feel that way, but he insists. Hurry with your breakfast and I'll grab you some clean clothes for our trip," she scoots out of the room. I eat as ordered and change into slacks and a button up top. She brushes my hair with her fingers as we ride down in the elevator to the main level. A car is waiting and within minutes we are deposited in front of a small shop.

The store is elegant. Every surface polished and smudge free. Case after case of jewels line the walls. Places like this don't exist in Twelve and I am a little nervous surrounded by gems so expensive. ANy one of them could feed a family in my home town for a year. Their is a single young lady who attends to us. She greets me with a wide smile.

"We are so happy to be assisting you today Mr. Mellark. President Snow has laid out several options for you to pick from, let me show you to the correct section," The polite woman waves me over to the far side of the counter. I am blinded by the glint of gold and diamond. I blink rapidly and try to make sense of the selection. Some of the stones are so large, I think they could be seen from yards away. Perhaps that is the effect he is looking for, something easily spotted on a TV screen. I have no experience in this area and feel lost. I turn to Portia.

"Which one do you think she'll like best?" I ask her, but what I want to say is which one do you think she will hate least. Portia scans the case and asks the girl to pull out a small selection of rings. She examines each one critically and hands each back to the girl as she excludes them. When she has it narrow to two she asks my input. The first has not one, but many small diamonds. It glimmers brightly, casting rainbows along the walls and I wonder how Portia has concluded such an elaborate setting would fit Katniss.

"It has a lot of shine, but the surface is smooth. It won't catch on anything or get in the way of work," she explains. I tilt my head and can see what she is talking about. No one diamond is raised above the rest. But my eyes fall on the next ring and I have the winner. The center stone, cut into a small circle, is the only gem in the setting. It is raised slightly from the gold band, but it is a soft yellow, instead of clear. It reminds me of sunshine and dandelions. It is beautiful, subtle, and unique, just like Katniss. Still, I wasn't sure if she would like it, but I thought it was the best pick of the bunch.

"You have excellent taste Mr. Mellark, this is the most expensive stone in our collection," the sales woman tells me. My eyes widen slightly but she whisks me away to look at bands, before I can change my mind. I wonder, with a thrill of terror, how much favor the President was trying to buy from us with his extravagant gifts. What would we have to pay back to earn this generosity? I decide quickly not to tell Katniss, she would be as ignorant as I and she would think the ring was a modest choice. Telling her otherwise would only add more stress to the situation. With the selections of wedding rings at hand, I took charge. Snow had also laid out several choices for me, but I insist on seeing the plain gold bands. Portia backs me up, as a stylist, saying any thing else would distract from the beauty of the yellow diamond. Once the woman at the counter has wrapped our selections, Portia takes the bands for safe keeping. I nervously hold onto the soft velvet blue box containing the engagement ring.

My prep team, Alexandria and Suede, work on me for the rest of the day. They conceal my sunburn and smooth out my skin. My curls, which have grown long since I left home, are trimmed slightly and conditioned to shine. Late in the morning, at their request, I pull out the ring. Alexandria gasps loudly and praises the stone, as if it is something holy. Suede nods approvingly. And they both agree Katniss will love it. Their reactions encourage me, not for Katniss's approval, but the response of the audience. As I had decided at home, this was not our true engagement. I had made Katniss my fiancee a month ago, in the privacy of my home, and again, unknowingly, in District Four. Tonight's event was just a show. An act put on to please the viewers.

Portia arrives to put on the finishing touches and fit me into a my suit, formal black and white contrast with a bright red tie. The ring box fits comfortably in my pants pocket.

"Are you nervous?" Portia asks kindly.

"No," I say confidently, with a light laugh, "knowing her answer already solves that part."

I am ushered onto stage before Katniss to talk with Caesar Flickerman. He greets me like an old friend and we discuss what I have been working on since the games. A hand full of clips are presented to the viewers, showcasing my painting, baking, and public speaking. Caesar congratulates me on having such a well rounded skill set. And then it is time for Katniss to join us. She is radiant in a floor length red gown that falls over one shoulder. The skirt gleams with gems and matching stones have been fixed to her bare arm. Her face looks mature in bright red lipstick and smokey eyes. The intention of Cinna is clear, this is not a child, but a future bride.

We spend time on Katniss's skills before turning toward the District reviews. Caesar asks about the feel of each site, we visited and we did our best to exaggerate the grandeur of the developments.

At the end of the segment, as predicted, we are asked about our blooming romance. I take a deep breath, imitating nerves, and get down on one knee. The audience before us collectively gasps. I can hear women crying already. I gently rest the ring box in my hand and speak to Katniss, staring directly in her eyes. My words are true, but old. After much forethought, I had decided to use my original proposal, from our first Tour, or at least what I could recall. I keep the other words, from our recent engagement tucked away, only for our ears. Katniss's face registers shock at the addition of the ring box, but she covers with a mask of excitement. When I finish my speech and lift the lid to reveal the diamond within. Her reaction is better than I expect. Either her acting skills have come a long way, or she likes the ring after all. Her lips part in a small 'O' and she allows me to place it on her finger.

"Yes," she says clearly to the waiting crowd. applause break out, followed my more crying. She is in my arms in an instant, pressing her lips to mine. The world before me fades away for a moment, until the smell of roses hits me.

"President Snow, what an honor to have you with us tonight," Flickerman announces. I pull away and fake a smile as Snow waltz onto stage, his arms full of at least two dozen blood red roses. He presents them to Katniss and embraces her briefly. He shakes my hand in congratulations and then greets Caesar.

"I heard about a side trip to a ring shop this morning and I thought I'd come to see my favorite couple in person," he smiles widely at the audience. I wind my arms around Katniss securely.

"Thank you sir, we have so much to be thankful for, especially all the love and support we have found here in the Capitol," I tell the crowd.

"Aren't they just the perfect pair," coos Caesar.

"Peeta and Katniss are the exact model of what our nation is to become. Their character is a representation of the strong, thriving youth of Panem," Snow replies.

"What a wonderful ride to follow their own progress," Caesar leads.

"And it would be a shame to miss," agrees Snow, "which is why I would like to throw the future Mr. and Mrs. Peeta Mellark an engagement party to benefit the District Development Plan." We smile and nod appropriately as Snow and Caesar hash out the plans for the event. The show ends with the anthem, Snow at my side.

The night is a flurry of congratulations and dancing. Thankfully we miss anymore company with the President, though I am sure we will have another visit again soon. Many people ask about the wedding plans, but we say little. It doesn't really matter, that event will be out of our hands. Instead we repeat over and over that we hope it will be soon. And when we reach Katniss's room, alone at last, I wish it had already come to pass.

We kiss and cuddle, but I don't trust anymore this close to Snow. Instead we settle into bed and begin the painful wait for our engagement party and the meeting with the New Rebellion to come.

Chapter 33

K POV

For our fundraiser / engagement party, I am dressed in Madge's design. She had been right about the dress. It was made for me, both in fit and style. I look mature, but it covers me better than it had her. The sparkle of my ring bounced off the sequins, so that I feel like I am glowing all night. Cinna has saved the gown for this occasion and I hope they will televise us so that Madge can see her hard work in action. Peeta complements me several times, along with many of the guests. I tell them repeatedly of my friend's talent and direct them to Cinna for more details. I wonder if she would get work from the Capitol, like Cinna had claimed.

The fundraiser is held in a large ballroom inside the training center. The night began earlier with a sit down dinner, but now has progressed to drinks and dancing. It seems like the whole Capitol has turned out for the event and with limited space, we are literally rubbing elbows with the richest people in the nation. As part of the night, as enticement for donators of the cause, Peeta and I have been asked to dance with the guests. I don't mind at first, but as the night wears on complements about my ring and congratulations on my engagement turn into references towards my curves and inappropriate question about Peeta and I. I do my best to be patient, but at barely quarter to eleven, I call it quits and I grab Peeta and glue us to Haymitch.

"Relax sweetheart," he says, "here have a drink." I want to keep a clear head but I sip slowly hoping it will calm me. Finnick approaches us alone in his fake Capitol saunter.

"Where's your date tonight?" Haymitch asks him. Finnick's face twists into anger.

"My date or my wife," he says bitterly, "My date has already been satisfied for the night and my wife is vomiting upstairs with Mags." My heart drops. Snow was continuing to use Finnick. His marriage had done nothing to stop the flow of admirers willing to pay.

"I was wondering about that," Haymitch whispers, "I'm sorry son."

"It's my own fault. I was stupid to expect different. Snow's calling it my personal contribution to Panem's development." Finnick grabs a champagne glass nearby and drains it.

"Is Annie okay?" I ask tentatively. He looks at me a little bewildered and drains another glass.

"Her and the baby are great," he says with a grimace, "see you all later." He turns to leave us with a third glass in his hand. I hide in Peeta's chest and take deep breaths.

We dance to pass the time, but still it drags. We twirl until I'm dizzy and then join Haymitch for another drink. I notice the other Victor's in the room mingling with the Capitol citizens and I wonder fleetingly how we will all exit without notice. But this wasn't my problem. All I was told to do was be by Haymitch at midnight. That I could handle. I watch the clock tick by each minute. At eleven fifty-nine I slide us up to Haymitch expectantly.

"Patience sweetheart," he scowls at me. I turn back to the dance floor, but he grabs my arm to still me. Half a second later the lights blink and fail completely. We are thrown into darkness and I cling to both Peeta and Haymitch. There is a lot of commotion and people surrounding us shuffle in both directions. Haymitch pulls us forward with sudden force and we move through the crowd roughly. I stumble in my heals more than once and I hear complaints as I run into people I can't see. Our pace is fast and it is difficult to keep up. I feel a gentle shift in air flow and know we have left the ballroom. Free from obstacles, Haymitch increases our speed to a light run. We turn two corners and stop. I hear the rattle of a handle and I am pushed into a dimly lit stairwell.

"All the way down," Haymitch instructs in a whisper.

"Wait," I gasp. I hold Peeta and strip off my heals. Shoes in one hand I plunge forward. We spiral into the depths of the Training center. I hear the sound of foot steps behind us and begin to panic. I reach for Peeta behind me and urge him to go faster. A door on the next landing opens and Haymitch holds it until we are through. We are thrown back into darkness.

"Haymitch, I think we are being followed," I breathe. Before he can answer me, the door to our side opens and someone plows into me.

"Move it brainless," Johanna sneers. This time it is her hand that closes around my arm and pulls me forward. We run down another long hall and through a final door. Light blinds me for a moments, but when I regain my vision, I know exactly were I have been led.

The room is familiar, but the perspective is all wrong. We are in the balcony over looking the training gymnasium. My eyes find Plutarch Heavensbee in the exact seat he occupied as I hung Senaca Crane to showcase my knot tying skills. He acknowledges our arrival.

"Just a few more minutes, I think, and then we will begin with whom ever has made it," he could be speaking of a Sunday tea instead of a secret rebellion meeting. The balcony fills quickly and we are pushed together. I recognize many faces, Cinna, Johanna, Finnick, Seeder, and Beetee, just to name a few, but others, I have never seen. I get quite a bad shock when three Peace Keepers enter in behind Chaff, but no one else reacts and they slide into some free space close to Heavensbee.

"I think that is it," says Heavensbee, as if to call us to order, although no one is speaking a word.

"First I must attend to two orders of business. I need to inform those of you who don't already know that this area in not monitored by listening devises. Originally, this was done to prevent the prying ears of victory hungry mentors," he pauses and a few small laughs echo out to the larger room, "but now it is able to serve as an effective meeting place. We are at further advantage tonight with the staged blackout that has eliminated many other devices for the time being. But please be advised that we cannot guarantee secrecy past that door." he points to the spot over my shoulder.

"Second, I must speak to all of you, whether you have been with us for years or just minutes. Each of you has earned trust to be here, but now you have to make a commitment. If you love the people of your nation, but not the rules that bind us and are prepared to make the necessary changes, in spite of the overwhelming risk to your safety and loved ones, then you are in the right place. If you have doubts, leave now and never speak of this again. Anything you listen to now will be a death sentence to repeat outside of these walls," he says and then allows minutes to tick by. People around me shuffle but no one leaves. Peeta pulls me close, one arm around my waist. His face is set and he suddenly looks years older.

"Very well," he begins again, "Before you is a small representation of the rebellion rooted within each District, may of you have guessed as much. What some of you don't know is that District Thirteen was never wiped out by the Capitol, as they have claimed to all of Panem. It remains intact, mostly underground, but cut off from the rest of us up until the last two years. Since that time we have been working together. With the help of their leader, President Coin, we were preparing to act on the Capitol. The overthrow would start District by District until we reached the Capitol and overtook Snow himself. The plan was set and people were already moving out of some of the Districts to join Thirteen in training. But all that changed three months ago with our very own star crossed lovers from District Twelve." I stand in shock, every head in the room turns to us. I stare into many pairs of eyes, some angry others curious. How ironic, that in my last lifetime I had ignited the revolution and in this one almost smothered it's flame. Heavensbee ignores the distraction.

"Snow smartened up and for once gave the people what they wanted. The Districts celebrated and Coin grew weary of our alliances. It's hard to say what prompted the initial census, but shortly after the games Snow was advised by one of his most trusted men that there were large shifts in the population. Immediately the Growth and Family Development Program sprung up. This quickly severed all ties with Coin and Thirteen. I am told she could no longer trust our discontent with so much positive change. Of course we, the citizens, knew better than to trust the false kindness of snow. But our last transmissions from Coin stated in no uncertain term that the partnership had come to an end and we now represented opposing sides. I can admit now, we were lost for some time. We waited and watched, gathering information from all sides. This, some of you have been key parts in." Heavenbee collects his breath.

"Now I can tell you, what most of you do not know yet and what we have learned over the last months. First, Snow has discovered the source of the population shift. He knows Thirteen was set to strike, aided by District rebels. However, he also believes the rebellion has almost all relocated to Thirteen. This affords us that remain some security, but I warn you that it will not remain forever. Second, the Capitol has been sincere in their desire to build population. An estimated two thousand individuals have escaped their home Districts. Snow is being forced to utilize every man, woman, and child to continue running the country. And finally, with our informants from Twelve and Four, we know the biggest piece of his plan. Snow has taken his last hit from Coin. The heart of his plan is simple: Panem is being groomed into a nation of soldiers, prepared with enough weapons, transportation, and supplies to take Thirteen out for good." A long silence follows his announcement. I turn the data over in my own head. It all fits. What I don't know is...

"So that leaves us..." Finnick says.

"Right in the middle of the worst two dictators imaginable and heading for a war that could end life as we know it," says Johanna blandly.

"What can we do?" Peeta speaks up at my side.

"That's more complicated," says Heavensbee, "but we have the beginnings of a new plan."

"This should be good," scoffs Johanna.

"The rough idea is to take over the Capitol passively, installing our people in key positions and then assassinating Snow when we are sure democracy can be achieved," Heavensbee explains.

"What about Thirteen," asks one of the Peace Keepers. Heavenbee shrugs uncomfortably.

"We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it," he says

"You mean kill off Snow and hope we haven't fuck ourselves when Coin tries to take us over," Johanna says.

"I admit the timing will have to be precise so that we are not weaken ourselves to invading opponents," Heavenbee says.

"But how do we know Snow will trust any of us enough to get that close to him?" Beetee squeaks.

"Because he already has," says Haymitch gruffly.

"Who?" asks Chaff. I look around waiting for someone to step forward. Peeta's face is full of confusion. Haymitch stares at Peeta and I. He smirks suddenly, amused by our expressions.

"Kids, we're talking about you. You're our inside men, our Mocking Jays..."

_Thank you again for those of you who have reviewed, your encouragement is wonderful! But I have been curious what you all think about certain aspects of the story: What do you think of the characters? Are they true to form or do I need to work on something? Do you find the plot well balanced? Or do I need more of something, i.e. drama, romance, adventure, smut? Is there anything confusing or you think I need to clarify (even if it is chapters back)? Have I made any mistakes in the Hunger Games world that need to be addressed? If you have thoughts on any of these I would love to hear from you! It will definitely help me write a better story. Thank you, Jules_


	10. Section 10

**Book Two: Changing Paths**

**Sequel to Wishful Thinking. Katniss's deepest desire has come true and Peeta and her have been able to return to their past to save the people they love. They continue to rewrite their future as Snow and the Capitol loom over them. What will the torn alliance with Thirteen and an emanate war mean for their future? Will they still be able to cling onto each other and all that they hold dear? Written from four perspectives: P : Peeta, K : Katniss, M : Madge, and G : Gale.**

**Enjoy and Please Review!**

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

A big thank you to all the people who have reviewed. I love the encouragement and love to hear what you think. I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! And **PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

**********************THIS SECTION INCLUDES TWO NEW CHAPTERS****************************

Chapter 1

G POV

I stare at the long line of numbers and letters. My eyes blur and I run a hand through my hair to try to focus, tugging at the brown locks in frustration. I'm garbage at math and I need a hair cut. I have been on the same page of my workbook for hours and I am no nearer to decoding the answer to the problem it has asked. My mother enters the living room, without announcement, and sets a small plate of bread and a glass of water on the table next to my arm. She pauses to run one of her rough hands over the side of my face. I need a shave as well.

"Maybe it's time for a break honey," she tells me. I look at her tired expression and wet apron. I want to laugh, my mother is the one who needs a break. But she never complains, tied to the kitchen sink day after day doing other people's laundry for pennies. The pressure builds to a breaking point in my chest. I want to quit, throw the large book into the fire like a child in a tantrum fit, and return to the fields for work. Part of me doesn't care about the income or our beautiful new home anymore. We could make it work, we had before. What would my father say if he could see the defeat in me now? What would he think of the man I have become? A man selfish enough to take this little bit of peace from my mother... I can't. I won't. This is too important to her, to my brothers and sister, to mess up. Quitting is not an option. I shake my head at her.

"No, I'm okay," I tell her. She is not convinced, but doesn't press the matter.

"The boys should be home soon," she tells me.

I shoot a glance at the clock on the wall in front of me, quarter to three. School is out and my brothers will be on their way with Madge Undersee, the Mayors daughter and my new tutor. Madge had been hoist on me weeks ago by Katniss and her sister Primrose. Madge was Katiss's good friend and knew the girl had a mind for mathematics. I had known Madge for years, but I would never call us friends, instead we were... I tried to think of the word for our relationship. Something based on her superior air as part of upper class society and her pity of the lowly Hawthorne family, coupled with my stubborn nature and general distaste for all things town...complicated, our relationship was complicated, I decided.

Still, what I couldn't deny was Madge's brains and patience. She dutifully came to my home several days a week and sat for hours repeatedly explaining each confusing formula. Sometimes, I crumpled the paper before she could finish, other times I would unwillingly raise my voice, but she remained quiet for my slips in behavior. Her only reaction was to smooth back out each sheet and begin again from the top. It would take two, three, five times to get through the most difficult problems, but she wouldn't continue until she was sure I understood and could work through it on my own. After I passed the first of my math tests with success, I realized with charring, how grateful I was for this girl, even if her kindness was charity. I had, of course, offered her payment for her services, actual coins now that I had them, but she always turned this down. This only fueled my annoyance with the situation. Madge couldn't be bought with money because she already had more than she needed, so I would be left eternally indebted to the Mayor's daughter for rescuing my family from the Seam. Her only excuse to me was that it was a favor to our mutual friend, Katniss.

Katniss Everdeen, the very name still brought a stabbing pain to my chest. It had dulled slightly with time, but I wondered if I would ever completely get over my old hunting partner. I had only myself to blame. I had known her for years, but hadn't really seen her until Darius O'Maley had pointed out her beauty. And then I had waited like a wuss to tell her, but the baker's youngest son had beat me to the punch. I wouldn't have believed the progression of their romance, if it wasn't thrown in my face so many times. Especially not from the independent and fierce girl I once shared the woods with. But it was hard to explain away the look in her eyes and the way she sometimes curved herself around Peeta. My heart gave another throb in response to the vision. I wanted to be the one wrapped in her arms, pulling her in for a kiss. That particular dream would never come to pass. Despite the suddenness of Katniss's change in behavior, I now knew she wasn't coming back to me. That was evident the night prior when I was subjected to the mandatory viewing of the Victor's Tour. I watched in quiet despair as Peeta Mellark slid a delicate ring on her finger and she accepted her place as his future wife. They would return tomorrow to the District. For a few days at least, I could avoid her, as celebrations went on, but eventually I would have to face both of them.

I wished, as I often did, that Peeta was an asshole. Not that I wanted Katniss subjected to that kind of man, but it would be easier to despise his very being. Instead, he was uncomfortably kind to me and too sensible for a boy his age. He was another person I now owed for my families survival. I had almost hit him in front of my younger brothers in the school yard for questioning my care of them, but he had been right about the seriousness of our need. I knew my father would have swallowed his pride long before I, at the sight of Vicks hungry, thinning face. So when I accepted his words and offer, I mentally exchanged the only thing I had to give him. I would not fight over Katniss with him. Yes, days later I had questioned her intentions for him, but I had already made up my mind. As long as she seemed happy, I would let him have her.

There is a loud bang, as the front door swings open in the hall and crashes into the wall. I sigh in frustration and rise from my seat to examine the damage. Rory, only a foot shorter than me, looks up with guilt and embarrassment. This is the third time this week he has cracked the dry wall. Our old house in the Seam had a rusty door that took extra force to open. After over two months in the new home, the boys were still not use to the smooth hinges of this one.

"Rory," my mother scolds, "your brother is working really hard to keep his house. We all need to do a better job of taking care of it." Her voice is even, not mad. My mother didn't have the temper I did. She looked at life much more objectively and forgave quickly. Still, Rory looks ashamed and I pity him. I couldn't stand disappointing my mother either. I finish assessing the wall.

"It's okay, I think the solution is to just put a steel plate here. I can't keep patching the wall anyways. Next time I'm in town I'll see what I can find," I tell her. She nods, deferring to my decision. The newly constructed home, with three generous bedrooms and a separate living room, dining room, and kitchen, was originally designated just for me. It might not have the size or grandeur of a Victor's home, but it was far too much space for myself alone. It wasn't a question in my mind that my family would join me, but my mother was a little hesitant at first. Pride was a trait I got from her. And in times like these, she fell back into the habit of referring to our home as my house, not there's. I never wasted time on arguing the point, it wouldn't change her feelings, but I did insist on paying for everything I could. From the food we ate, to a new dress for Posy, it all came out of my pocket. The money my mother earned now, I ordered her to put in savings. Secretly, I was counting on this fund to sustain them if I failed and we had to return to the Seam life.

In the commotion, I didn't notice Magde at first. She stood quietly in the doorway, probably respecting our space as a family. Her face was turned down and I got the impression she was trying not to listen.

"Madge, please come in," my mother welcomed. She stepped over the threshold and my mother closed the door behind her.

"Warm day?" my mother says, eyeing her with a smile. Madge has pulled off the sweater of her school uniform revealing a snug sleeveless top. Like most school outfits for girls, it was a plain off white with a grey skirt. Merchant children sometimes dressed the clothes up with ribbons or pins. More so recently, as so many girls scrambled to find husbands. Ironically, Madge; who loved fashion enough to spend hours with Katniss's designer, Cinna; seemed somewhat indifferent to her day to day appearance. Not that she was unkept, more that she was not trying as hard as other girls. Most days she appeared at my house in this same outfit, with her golden hair pulled into the messy bun, as it was in now, and her cardigan buttoned all the way up. My mothers comment is only meant as a observation at the change in her appearance, but Madge blushes with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Hawthorne, it was a little warm on the walk," she answers and starts to pull the sweater back on. My mother stills her hand and laughs a little.

"You're fine, just the way you are," she reassures Madge, "you don't have to hide under your sweater, you should let the boys at school get a good look at what they are missing. Just promise when one of them finally catches you, you'll still come by to see us?" Madge blushes again, but nods with a smile. I look her over carefully, thinking over my mother's words. I had already figured out that Magde didn't have a boyfriend yet, for one she hadn't announced an upcoming wedding and second, I was sure not man in Twelve would allow her to spend so much free time with another single man like myself.

What I pondered was what exactly the 'boys at school' had missed. It was hard to compare her to other girls, at least the ones I had been better acquainted with. Madge was so town, curvy, petite, and blond. So different than either Jennifer White or Astrid Pollock. Who were tall, thin, dark haired and eyes, products of the Seam. Though Jennifer an Astrid had different personalities and temperaments, they were very similar in physical attributes, and I realized with some embarrassment, that they had blended together in my mind. They had come before my feelings for Katniss and both flings had advanced to about the same place. I felt bad, knowing I was probably the first man to run my hands under their shirts and panties and feel their hands on me, yet couldn't tell them apart. What did that say about my character? I didn't like to think about it. I was raised by the strongest woman I knew and liked to think I had a respect for all girls. Both Jennifer and Astrid were married women now, I thought at least one was expecting her first child. I shook myself from this guilty train of thought and was thrown into a worse one. I looked at Madge again. Unwillingly, I wondered what her large breasts would feel like in my hands or mouth, against my bare chest. Would I enjoy the pressure of her short frame and thick thighs around my waist?

"Mommy," I hear Posy call from the end of the hall. Nap time is over. I am pulled back to the present just in time. My mother leaves us wordlessly. I can't stop the blush of my cheeks, but arrange my face in a scowl to cover. Madge looks ashamed. I feel bad for a moment, but before I can think to say anything she walks past me. Pulling her sweater on and buttoning it all the way up. She sits in her usual space and looks over what I have been working on.

"We should get started" she says quietly.

Chapter 2

P POV

Katniss is still with shock and disbelief at my side. Her eyes are wide and her mouth hangs open. I consider picking up her chin with my finger. I want to laugh, after the events of the last months, hell, after the things we have heard in the last few days, you wouldn't expect this announcement to unhinge her so. The woman who now holds the knowledge of Snow's true intentions; the Victor who can see our future is leading to a three sided war; and the Rebel who will partner with me to take down the government, from the inside out; is the same girl who gasps loudly at Effie Trinkets 'good news'.

"Two weeks," Katniss shouts, "we're getting married in two weeks?"

"Yes, I know," Effie shrills, "there is so much to do! But don't worry. You have me and I have everything under control." I have a feeling Effie's control and Katniss's are two different things.

"What..." Katniss starts, but Haymitch, Cinna, Portia, Mrs. Everdeen, Prim, and I don't get to hear her question, because Effie is off again.

"Of course, I will still need all of your cooperation in this undertaking. Each of you will have an important role and it is of the utmost importance that you follow my direction to a tee. As you can image we will be taping the event, but we will also play host to the most important men in the nation," she beams, as if holding a secret.

"Are you trying to tell us Snow is on the guest list, sweetheart?" Haymitch says with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh Haymitch, you already knew, that was suppose to be a surprise for Katniss and Peeta."

"Cats out of the bag," I say quietly. I am not happy, but it's better to know a poisonous snake is coming, rather than be caught off guard.

"Primrose," Effie says, Prim sits up strait and looks at Effie obediently, "you will be a brides maid. Cinna will have your dress ready by the end of the week." Prim nods in understanding.

"Katniss, what's the name of that other girl you have been working with? Peeta has two brothers that will stand up for him and I want her as your second bridesmaid" Effie says.

"Ella?" Katniss says confused.

"Oh, no, she won't work. The Mayor's daughter," Effie explains.

"Madge Undersee," Katniss answers in annoyance. Katniss, would have no aversion to Madge as a brides maid, but the accusation that Ella O'Maley was not up to par left a bad taste in both our mouths.

"Yes, I will need you to speak with her soon. She will be working with Cinna, naturally," Effie continues. I start to lose focus as she talks about flower arrangements and table cloths. I generally try to be more in tuned with this sort of thing, but I am distracted by more pleasant thoughts. A wedding in two weeks means a wedding night in two weeks. This part Katniss couldn't be angry about, but I was sure this wasn't an appropriate conversation to have in front of my future mother-in-law. Haymitch interrupts a vivid day dream with a heavy pat on the shoulder.

"Aren't you suppose to meet with Wells soon?" he questions. It wasn't like him to keep a schedule for me, but I knew what had him so attentive. Katniss, Haymitch, and I were all nervous and eager to hear what Mr. Wells, District Twelve's Project Manager had in mind for my 'involvement in District progress'. I stand quickly to leave. Katniss's hand still clings to mine.

"Deserter!" she scowls. I pull her face up to meet mine and kiss her firmly.

"I love you," I say. She huffs in response.

"Peeta, will you be joining us for dinner?" Mrs. Everdeen inquires.

"Please," I answer, before biding the others farewell. I feel awkward making this journey without Katniss. We are a team through and through, but that is not what the Capitol wants to see. They expected me to be in charge of my household. That is what Snow is looking for in a leader and that is what the New Rebellion needed me to be. A leader in Snow's world. Someone close enough to know ever secret and eventually use those secrets to take all his power and his life. That last right, the deed of ending him, I would save for Katniss, if I could.

The trip to Wells is short. I find him waiting on the neighboring porch of the nearest Victor's home. When I reach him he shakes my hand firmly.

"I suppose congratulations are in order Mellark," he says.

"Yes, we are very excited. We just heard the wedding date, a week from this Saturday," I tell him.

"The timing will work out well. I have things to show you today, but the real fun won't start until the end of the month. We have some issues to deal with first," he says ambiguously. I don't think we will agree on the definition of 'fun'.

"Anything I can help with, sir," I fish.

"You're ambitious. I like that. Don't worry, when the time comes for your help I'll call on you. Then we'll see what you're really made of," I suppose it's meant as a compliment and promise, but it sounds more like a insult and a threat. We have started walking towards town. I wonder where he is taking me, but I follow in silence. Until he speaks.

"I have an opinion to ask of you," Wells says. I nod.

"I expect a real answer. I'm going to trust you Mellark and it would be a shame if this person I ask about ends up letting me down," he says. I swallow hard.

"I understand," I reply

"Gale Hawthorne," he says. I collect my thoughts. Could I trust Gale enough to serve as his reference? No, I personally couldn't, but Katniss would. If she were next to me I would know what to say. I take a deep breath. I have my answer.

"Hawthorne is a good family friend. Smart, strong, trustworthy," I say, "did you have any particular concerns, sir?"

"As you might know, as a friend, he has been picked for specialized training. He's doing well and in a few months he will be eligible for the next level of his education," Wells tells me.

"That's excellent news," I say.

"Yes, but he has been spending a lot of time with young Miss Undersee," he says with some distaste.

"Are you speaking of Madge?" I have ask him to clarify, I have never heard such dislike when someone is speaking of the Mayor's mild, mannered daughter.

"Yes, you see, what we worry is that the girl is too much of her father. The Mayor has recently developed the bad habit of disobedience. As I am sure you know, it is high on my list of pet peeves. It would be a shame to spend so much time grooming Mr. Hawthorne, if he is to be caught up in a mess with that girl. If she is, in fact, a mess," he says. I consider this information. And many questions surfaced. Was Mayor Undersee the city official due to be off'd, as Haymitch had predicted? Would Madge go down with him? Was their some development between Gale and Madge I didn't know about?

Katniss might have some insight or at least an idea on some of this. But Katniss was the bride-to-be, strapped to the couch at home under Effie's gaze. I had to decide who to protect and how, quickly. Gale I had already vouched for. Sadly the Mayor, had already lost favor with Wells, I would help him if I could, but speaking up for him now would completely discredit me. Finally, Madge, who had been Katniss's friend for years and was quick enough on her feet to cover for us the night the Hob burned. I follow my gut and hope it won't come back on Katniss and I later.

"Madge is another old friend," I say, "she and her father have never seen eye to eye. Aside from Gale, she's been spending a lot of time working with Katniss for the Tour and now the wedding." We've come to a stop at the break in the fence. Mr. Wells stares into my eyes for a long moment. I try not to blink.

"Good. As I said, it would be a shame for her to follow in her father's foot steps and drag Mr. Hawthorne with her," he says, then adds, "and it would be a waste of a pretty face too." He reminds me of the look he had given Reese in the bakery. Mr. Wells, younger and more attractive, is as filthy minded as Old Cray and ten times as evil. I think of many things to say. Mostly to bolster Gale's and Madge's character or swear they are not involved, but I can't be sure about the last part and I think any more talk would sound fake.

"Okay Mellark, let's talk shop," He leads me through the fence and I am standing before the almost completed hospital. I am supplied with a hard hat and Mr. Wells has the foreman take us inside. We see all four floors of the building. A modest size, by Capitol standards, it will compete with the new steel factory as Twelve's largest structure. The speed of progress is nothing short of impressive, beds already line the walls of three of the floors and the top level is being painted during our tour. However, Mr. Wells looks board and I wonder, other than showing off the Capitol's efficiency, what purpose he has for taking me here.

"Thank you Davidson, I'll take it from here," Mr. Wells says when the elevator returns us to the first floor. Mr. davidson steps out and I make to follow. Mr. Wells clears his throat, he hasn't moved. I step back beside him. The doors slowly close and he pulls an intricate key from his pocket. He inserts it in to a key hole, by the door, I hadn't noticed before.

"The best is yet to come," he smirks. My stomach turns painfully as the elevator drops down, but I manage a smile back. I count five beeps from the button panel before we come to a stop again and the doors slide open.

The dark hall way is familiar, even though I have never been here. The grey painted walls are dotted with large black doors with identical small glass windows with shudders. I fill a rush of memories surface in my mind and I do my best to push image, after image away. I shove my trembling hands in my pocket and focus only on the back of Wells head.

"This is why I wanted to bring you here, Peeta," His hand reaches for a door knob half way down the hall. He doesn't look at my face before he enters the room and I am grateful. Terror rises in me. Was this it? Had we been found out already? Would I die here tonight? Or would they listen to months of my screaming before they turned me into a mutt and set me back on Katniss? I close my eyes and allows a deep breath, hoping I will not be heard. If I run now, I will be admitting guilt. I won't get far enough to make a difference, I couldn't reach Katniss in time. Thirteen isn't an option to hide in. I rally all my self control and step in behind him.

I am as prepared as I can be, so when the metal table with restraints and double sided mirror comes into view, I don't vomit. But the bile that fills my throat makes me happy I did not eat yet.

"Do you know what this is?" Wells asks me. I see Snow in my mind asking me the same question, as Peace Keepers force me down and strap my arms. In my memory I shake my head no and he says to me..

"It's for Capitol traitors," I say out loud before I can stop myself. I try not to be surprised by my own words. Mr. Wells roars in sudden laughter. I jump, but force a smirk on my own face.

"You're a wise man Mellark. You remind me a little of myself at the beginning of my career. If you are lucky you'll get to see this in action," he gestures to the table and I try to nod approvingly. But I am disgusted by the comparison to this man. He puts an arm around my shoulder, like an old friend and steers us back to the elevator.

"This is all top secret of course. I hope I only have to say that once," he says sternly.

"I would expect nothing less when it comes to national security," I manage. He smiles again.

We make it back to Victor's Village with polite conversation about the wedding day. For Wells, it is as if nothing has happened other than a regular tour of the new hospital. My hands remain in my pockets until we part. He holds out his hand to me again. I reach my own out quickly and squeeze hard to hide my shake. He returns the pressure in kind and leaves me at Katniss's doorsteps. I don't have to knock. Katniss throws open the door, as if she has been waiting. I am losing what little composure I have remaining fast and I take one long step into the house and fall into her arms.

"Peeta, she gasps. I slouch slightly to bury my face in her neck hiding under her hair and breathe her in. My arms wrap around her and I pull her painfully against my body. I can feel the accumulated sweat dampening my shirt and hers. My heart is audible in my chest.

"Shh, she coos, stroking my hair. I can't find words yet. But she knows my moods. Only a Capitol memory could make me fall apart in this way.

"Come with me," she whispers, tugging me to the stairs. Mrs. Everdeen rounds the corner from the kitchen with the sound of the front door closing. She is taken a back at my fearful expression and disheveled appearance.

"Peeta are you alright," she asks.

"He'll be fine. He's just feeling a little sick. I'm taking him to the bathroom," Katniss says in a rush as she helps my shaky legs up the steps.

"Are you sure? Maybe we should ask the doctor to look at him?" she says.

"NO!" Katniss says a little too forcefully, "I got him." Mrs. Everdeen is surprised and does not look the slightest convinced, but she nods and returns to the other room. I register the word 'doctor', but it only pulls me back to the underbelly of the Capitol building.

_A man in a long white coat blinds me with a small light he shines in each of my eyes._

"_Still in love with the girl on fire, Peeta," Snow taunts me._

"_No," I say, "she's a mutt." Snow laughs loudly. The Peace Keeper at my left side tightens the grip on my arm and I can feel the long bone their crack under the pressure. I scream out in agony. My arm throbs and I try to still it to ease the sting, but my reaction is to pull away. _

"_Oh, I wished this was all over with too Peeta, but your a liar!" Snow advances and presses down on the break. I bite down on my lip until it bleeds, I wouldn't give him anymore satisfaction._

"_Give him three more rounds and increase the dose," Snow orders. A doctor advances on me and I can't help but to scream again as the needle enters my skin, I already know what is coming._

"_Now you're the boy on fire," Snow chuckles. I don't hear him leave. I can't hear anything over my own yells..._

"Peeta, not real, not real," Katniss soothes. I am on the floor in her bathroom. She has managed to remove my shirt and is drying the sweat from my chest and arms with a soft towel. I feel cold and weak, but I have stopped shaking now.

"Are you going to tell me," she is not angry or even expectant. It is a true question.

"I can't," I say, "not now." She nods in understanding, but my words do nothing for her worry.

"I just need you," I tell her. She nods again and crawls into my lap. We sit for a long time. By the time we hear a small knock at the door my legs are completely numb. I am considering staying in this spot the rest of the night, when Prim's voice comes through the door.

"Katniss, Peeta, mom sent me up to check on you. She wants to know if you are coming down to dinner or if she should send up our guest," she says. Katniss frowns, Mrs. Everdeen has us trapped. She looks at me.

"I'm okay now," I say in a steady voice, "we'll be down in a minute." I make to stand and we hear Prim leave. I test my legs and feel the blood rush back into them.

"We will be having a new guest stay with us," Katniss tells me.

"I didn't know anyone else was coming," I say as I march in place.

"Neither did I, before he showed up. He's a doctor from the Capitol," she explains. I frown a little and reach for the door.

"Guess the new hospital needs staff," I say. Better a doctor, than another Capitol Official. I crack the door but she pushes her body in front of me and closes it. I stare at her in surprise.

"A lot happened today while you were out and I need to tell you about it," she says with her eyebrows raised.

"I have a lot to tell you too," I say a little confused. Knowing we can't say anymore I usher her out the door and into the hall.

"Peeta, wait,"she says I turn to look at her. She is struggling to find words. What have I missed? What does she need to tell me so urgently, but can't get out?

"The new doctor has a familiar look to him,"she says at last, "His name is..."

"Peeta Mellark, I heard you were not feeling well. Can I be of assistance," a mans voice says from behind me. I turn on the spot and am looking in to the face of our old friend, Dr. Aurelius.

Chapter 3

M POV

Posy answers the door after two light knocks. She smiles brightly at me in recognition and then her small face twists into an expression of wonder.

"You look pretty," she says reaching her arms up, seeking my skin. I realizes with a jolt I haven't washed my face clean or tied up my hair. I didn't look pretty, I looked ridiculous, I was sure of it. Prim and I had spent a very long morning with Cinna for our dress fittings. Normally I would love a day of fashion, but it is harder when it is focused on me. Ms. Trinket had joined us late and insisted that she get a look at the 'whole picture'. This included full make-up and hair. By the time we had finished, I was already running late. In my haste, somewhere between Cinna's room in Peeta's house and the Hawthorne's door step, I had over looked my current state. My hair fell in long spiral curls down my back, pinned away from my face with small flower clips. My eye lids are painted and outlined in soft earth tones and my lips and cheeks are illuminated by pink. The effect had been breath taking on Prim, but I wasn't Prim. I glanced behind me fleetingly. Did I have time to leave before I was seen by the other members of the Hawthorne family? I lean down to whisper to the little girl.

"Posy, I'll be right back," I tell her. She stares transfixed. With me closer up she can touch my face now. I allow her to trace my lips with her tiny finger and then watch as she repeats the action on her own mouth. Some of the pink gloss is transferred to her tiny lips. I can't help my laughter.

"Am I pretty now?" she asks.

"You're always pretty," I tell her. I brush a brown curl behind her ear and she beams up at me.

"Gale, look at me," she calls suddenly. I consider running, but he is around the corner from the living room in a second. He is already irritated, this much is plain. He has probably been waiting for me most the day. He takes in the scene. He looks back and forth between Posy and I.

The little girl, impatient with excitement lunges toward him. He scoops her up in his arms and examines her face.

"Am I pretty like Madge now?" Posy asks. I turn my face down quickly hoping this moment will pass.

"Yes," he replies. I hear a loud pucker from Posy and then her protest to get down, so she can find her mother. The sound of little feet on the wood floor echos away from us. I don't want to look up. Gale Hawthorne never fails to make me feel like the silliest girl in Panem. Butterflies flutter in my nervous stomach and I hide my face, waiting for his retort. It never comes and when too much uncomfortable silence has filled the void left by Posy, I gain my courage.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I got stuck with Cinna." I chance a glimpse of him. He doesn't look angry, more...confused. But his eyes are intense and I still wonder when the rude comments will come. I can't take anymore, I feel like I might cry of embarrassment.

"May I use your bathroom," I say in a rush.

"Yeh," he says, the same dumbfounded look on his face. I walk, face down again until I am past him. I lock the door and strip off my top. I scrub my cheeks, lips, and chest clear of make-up, leaving my skin a little pink. I pull my hair down and then wind my locks back into my usual bun. With difficulty, I get it to stay in place with the small clips Cinna had used. I sit on the toilet seat and let minutes pass, waiting for my skin to return to it's normal shade. I redress and check the mirror one more time before exiting. There is still a hint of eyeliner, but anymore washing and I would lose all my eyelashes.

Gale is back in the living room focused on the papers before him. I sit at his side and read the problem over his shoulder.

"You're in the wedding," he says, it's not a question, but I nod.

"Will you be there," I hedge tentatively. Katniss was a difficult topic with Gale. I generally avoided it at all costs, but my curiosity had won out today. I wonder idly why his attendance should matter to me. I don't have an answer.

"I think it's expected of me," he says bitterly. I know Gale has feelings greater than friendship for Katniss . It's plain every time she comes up and I feel sad for what he is going through now. What I didn't understand is the slight annoyance I sometimes feel about the situation. I'm not mad at Katniss or Peeta, I know what they have been through and they deserve happiness. And I can't fault Gale for his feelings, Katniss is my best friend, I know as well as anyone how beautiful and wonderful she is. What bothers me is that Gale is missed in the shuffle. Gale Hawthorne is stubborn and proud, but he is still a good man. He is strong, handsome, hardworking, smart, and loyal to his family. The fact that he despises me is beside the point. I can't think of a response, so I focus on the problem again.

"Your actual math is correct here, but you used the wrong formula," I tell him. He looks at me questioningly for a moment.

"This is not a right triangle. I have to use the other equation," he says confidently.

"Yes," I say with a smile. I wait as he erases several lines to rework the problem. Posy, accompanied by Mrs. Hawthorne, slides back into our presents.

"I came to see the other pretty face," Mrs. Hawthorne says, using her daughters words. I blush.

"You didn't miss much," I say lightly. Gale shifts at my side, apparently he agrees.

"Oh," she says, her face a little sad. Mrs. Hawthorne is always kind to me, but she is sometimes very intuitive about the feelings of the people around her. I almost squirm under her speculation. Please let it go, I plead in my mind.

"Well, can I get you anything? Are you hungry?" I sign in relief at her words.

"That's not necessary, but thank you very much," I answer.

"Strawberries," Gale says, "we have strawberries today." Mrs. Hawthorne smiles before leaving us and returns with a large bowl of the fresh cut berries, she sets it in front of Gale. My mouth waters.

We work for awhile and the bowl remains untouched. I do a lot of watching today, a good sign, because tomorrow is his next test date. He doesn't need my help as much, which means he is understanding the material. I watch his eyebrows for distress. I have come to predict his mood by their state. When they scrunch he is working through something difficult, but within his reach. A gentle curve is confidence. He knows what he is doing and I remain silent. A high arch is always confusion, a wordless 'help'. And a thin line accompanied with the smallest pout of his lips is the danger zone. If not caught early enough it leads to outward anger.

More than an hour must have past for our last words when I see his brows arch. I look quickly over his shoulder.

"You're doing good," I reassure him, "this is all correct so far." He slides the bowl of strawberries towards me.

"These are for you," he says. I almost reach out for one, but I stop. Who knows how much these have cost. Not even we buy them this late in the season from the market.

"I couldn't," I say.

"Please," he says, the intensity is back in his eyes. He leans across me a little to grab the dish and place it in my lap, persistently. My heart jumps with nerves. He nods to the berries. I finally pick one up and raise it to my lips. He watches my actions intently, making my heart beat that much faster. He blushes and turns back to his work before I can register more. He picks up his pencil, but his free hand darts quickly to the bowl to pluck a single piece of strawberry. I laugh at the suddenness of his action and his own chuckle accompanies me. I like the sound, it makes him seem younger, more carefree.

I slowly pick at the treat, enjoying each bite and occasionally correcting Gale on some error in his technique. The day has been long and eventually my eyes begin to droop. I can't say when or exactly how, but I fall into sleep. Sometime later Gale gently rocks my shoulder. I stir and find his face closer than I expect. I can make out the stubble on his chin and count his eyelashes. I swallow hard.

"I think I'm ready for tomorrow. It's late, I can walk you home," he tells me.

I stand quickly making my head spin. I register the blanket that drops from my lap and the absence of the dish.

"I'm sorry. How long have I been a sleep?" I ask. He shrugs. He stands himself and moves towards the front door.

"You don't have to take me, it's my fault," I say.

"It's too late for anyone to walk alone," he tells me, as way of persuasion.

"How will you make it back then?" I say, I can't help the smirk I give him, it must be the berries. He smiles a little too, but ushers me forward.

Gale takes his usual stride, which means I have to almost jog to keep up. When we are side by side like this, I come roughly to the level of his chest. It makes me feel small and insignificant. Which I am, compared to many girls in Twelve. Shortly after we are past Victor's Village, the sporadic street lights dim and shut off completely. I am not surprised, even with the new developments, this is still poor District Twelve and they are bound to cut corners somewhere. I will be walking into a blackened house. I hope my father has lit a candle or two. I hope he can find one. We've been so spoiled lately with all the District's events, I can't remember the last time this happened.

The moon is almost invisible over head and it puts me on edge. I subconsciously move closer to Gale's side. He doesn't comment, but he must know what I am thinking, because he slows slightly. It is easier to keep up with him at this pace and I am grateful.

We make it past the city square and walk along the back of the merchant shops. However, the sight of the dark buildings only increases my anxiety. Each structure looks menacing to me, despite the thousands of times I have taken this path. You're being ridiculous, I think to myself. Gale, other than his shorter gait, looks unaffected. So I try to push my fears away. I would be safe with Gale, I thought.

We near my home and my nervousness explodes in the pit of my stomach. Nothing had happen. Nothing had changed. Not yet, anyways. But I couldn't stop the overwhelming sense of dread that suddenly captures me. I wrap my arms around my chest, holding in my irrational heart, which now beats loudly. I couldn't ever remember feeling this way in my life. Could it be Gale making me nervous again? It seemed extreme and more than silly. I would feel better once I was in the house, I concluded.

I can make out the back porch, it is steps away, just beyond the gap of the neighboring house. I leap forward, intent on getting inside quickly, but as I step into the separation I stop. I am thrown off by the light coming from the other side of the short alley the two homes make. It feels unnaturally bright in the darkness and I cannot see much else before I am pulled back. My heart stops and I almost yell out, as a strong arm winds around my middle and a large hand closes over my mouth. I struggle in fear for a moment, until I inhale the light scent of pencil lead. I relax in Gale's arms and he turns me toward him. His face is simultaneously full of worry and concentration. He raises a finger to his lips in warning and I clamp down hard on any questions I have.

In our silence, I hear what the hunter had. There is a lot of scuffling, broken by the occasional laughter or yell, coming from the front of the house.

"Mayor, so good to see you tonight," I hear a man call loudly. I recognize the voice instantly from all our previous encounters with city business. It's Mr. Wells and he sounds the happiest I have ever heard him. My father doesn't respond, but there is more scrambling and I hear someone howl in pain. I jerk forward toward the noise, but Gale stops me again. He doesn't pull us farther back and he doesn't let me go again. Instead he presses me to his firm chest, resting his hands high on my back and against my cheek.

"Shh," he whispers to remind me. He scoots as close as possible to the corner of the house. Light shines past the sole of my right shoe and he nudges it back into shadow with his own foot.

"You have not followed instructions, Mr. Undersee. Your complete lack of compliance on the new marriage laws has made a lot of unnecessary work for the Capitol. They are not pleased with you," Wells says, although he sounds gleeful.

"I have followed procedure," I hear my father say. There is a smatter of laughter. My father had been technically following the rules, but he had made no secret of his distaste for them. Was his liberal opinion catching up to him now? The terror built in my overworking heart.

"It is clear to me that you do not understand the new procedure Mayor, so that is what I am here to teach you," Mr. Wells voice is condescending and deadly. I shutter at the sound. Gale's thumb caresses the skin on my face. I take several deep breaths. He smells a little like woods and a lot like the sweet strawberries we had eaten.

"You don't have the authority," my father boldly states. I know this is a mistake in an instant. More yells issue into the night and a woman's scream joins them.

"Get in the house Mary," my father pleads. I can't hear her answer, her scream is cut short abruptly.

"No, no, no," my father calls repeatedly, until his own yells are cut off with a horrible thud. A partially restrained sob comes from my chest.

"Take him away," Wells says. I try to go to him, but I am caged by Gale still.

"We have to wait," he whispers. I am forced to comply with his sensible request. I turn my face away from the light as the tears roll out of my eyes. There is nothing I can do or say. The charring embarrassment, earlier in the day and the building dread, I had felt on my way home, was nothing to the crushing grief I feel now. Perhaps taking pity on the silly Mayor's daughter, Gale hugs me closer. He hunches down slightly so that I can wind my arms around his neck, his own arms find my waist. I am almost lifted off the ground as he tugs me against him again. He doesn't resist as I unwillingly breakdown in a stream of tears and sobs, my face buried in his neck. I am sure later he will be disgusted by this moment, but for now it is my only comfort. All nerves and insecurities are gone, I have no room for those emotions right now. I greedily cling to him, siphoning his warmth and safety in the cold, dark night.

Chapter 4

K POV

"Katniss, how are you today?" asks Dr. Aurelius politely. His words, the same I have heard him speak to me a thousand times over the phone line. I settle my fork down on my plate. Peeta gives an almost imperceptible chuckle at my side. No doubt laughing at the same general discomfort, I have always had talking to this man. I swiftly kick him under the table.

"I'm good, just tired, lots to do for the wedding," I reply cooly. I turn back to my meal. I don't want to be rude to our guest, but I fear the kind of probing questions, he is known for.

"I can imagine, it must we very exciting for all of you," he smiles around the table at my family.

"Yes, thank you," says my mother, while Prim beams at him. The other Everdeen women have been quite taken with the doctor since his arrival, almost a week ago. Prim's and my mother's favorite topics are people and medicine. Dr. Aurelius, as a professional in both areas, has seemed to enjoy engaging the girls in conversation. Further, after he had witnessed my mother's skills and Prim's knowledge, he had graciously offered them positions in the new hospital. Which we were informed, would be under his control shortly. There would be classes available to children who showed interest, like Prim, and he was willing to take my mother in the capacity of head nurse.

Despite their excitement, I had my reservations. Even if Dr. Aurelius had made me uncomfortable in my past life, I had trusted him, in this life I could not say the same. I didn't like his sudden appearance. He felt like another Official pushed onto us, even if he did make better dinner company. I could not openly ask him about his involvement in the Capitol or his knowledge of their plans, but I thought he must be privy to some of it. By now I knew what rested in the depths of the new hospital. Would our former therapist, Dr. Aurelius have a hand in the torture they had planned for those rooms? Second, his offers to my family reminded me too much of District Thirteen. I was relieved when Prim was not chosen for special training, but I should have known someone would see her true talent, sooner or later.

"And how are you feeling about joining the lovely Everdeen family, Peeta?" Dr. Aurelius says smoothly. Peeta is calm and collected.

"I think I am the most excited, except for maybe Katniss," Peeta says. I see him wink at me from the corner of my eye and watch his lips turn up. Traitor, I think. Peeta, who I had expected to be horrified by our new visitor as much as me, finds it all amusing. Sensibly, he had agreed that we should not take for granted the doctors intentions or alliances, but he seemed generally happy for his presents. Peeta had relied on the doctor greatly to heal his mind after the war and I couldn't deny that he had worked miracles. I imagined Peeta felt like he owed the man greatly. I also wondered if it made him feel safe to have Dr. Aurelius near. Painful memories had been stirred recently, but Peeta hadn't had a true flashback in this life, the kind full of rage and destruction. I wondered if he was counting on this man to control him if one eventually came. I had brought this up to Peeta, as well, and with hesitation, he had agreed that it wasn't smart to get help from the doctor, even then. Regardless, his stance on the whole topic was humor. Mellark enjoyed nothing greater than watching me squirm.

"What are your feelings Miss Everdeen? Your mother tells me that you will be moving next door after the wedding. How do you think all this change will effect you?" Damn Dr. Aurelius and his probing questions. Peeta pats my leg under the table, I shove it away roughly.

"I...good?" I stammer. He waits patiently for more. I am saved as the lights fade out and my mother has to explain to Dr. Aurelius what is happening. I have never been so thankful for Twelve's faulty electricity supply. We finish our meal by candle light. While my mother and sister clean up the dishes, Peeta offers to help me build each of our fire places to light the home.

He works fast with his skilled hands and all I really do is hand him wood. October is proving to be chilly this year and my family will also be grateful for the heat later tonight. We light each fireplace in the house, top to bottom, finishing in the living room. I hand him the last off the wood in my arms and plop on the couch. Peeta gently fans the flames into existence. The room fills with light, warmth and the smell of baking oak tree. He takes a blanket from the arm of a near chair and drapes it over me. Then lifts my whole body up and positions himself under me. He tucks his head at the side of my face and kisses a line to my chin. I close my eyes and rest against him.

"This is one of my favorite places to be with you," he says. I nod. This was where we spent most of our old life together. We sat most nights by this same fire. I often wrote in our memory book on the coffee table. And the furniture had been readjusted to accommodate Peeta's easel and paints by the large bay window. I loved this room too.

"For a long time this room held one of my favorite memories," he smirks a little, "you know, one I could actually remember."

"What's that?" I say. He pushes his lips to my ear and whispers

"I don't know if it meant the same to you, but this is were I kissed you for the first time after the war," he tells me.

That moment, I remembered too. It was also the first winter. Not long after he got well again, at least physically. We hadn't started the memory book yet, but I had committed myself to a schedule. Breakfast with Peeta and Greasy Sae, my day in the woods, a short visit to make sure Haymitch was alive, and home again were Peeta was waiting. There was a lot of quiet time and I found peace in the calm of being around him. I'm not sure who had suggested it first, or if we had just fell asleep one day, but we had started holding each other at night. Peeta was better than any pill from the Capitol. Everyday I felt stronger, better rested, until soon I couldn't sleep at all without him.

A classic District Twelve blizzard had hit mid February. I had decided not to try traveling in the woods as I saw the first signs of snow fall, but Peeta had been determined to get to the train and check on Haymitch before we got boarded in. I was still too sensitive then, too damaged to be without him. I paced impatiently in front of the fire waiting for him and then curled up in the arm chair in despair when I was sure he would never return. But he did, with hair full of snow and arms laden with firewood. His smile turned to distress when he saw me. He fell to his knees at my side and tried to comfort me, but I was beyond reason. I didn't hear his words, I refused his touches. Finally, perhaps in frustration, he copied my own tactic from our time together in battle. With no other way to pull me out of my clouded mind, he took my face firmly in his cold hands and pressed his soft, moist lips to my trembling mouth. He kissed me hard and long, until I moved with him. My mind settled as I focused on the feel of him.

This might of been our thousandth kiss, but it couldn't compare to any of them. It wasn't forced or orchestrated. It wasn't for pity or joy. It didn't light a fire inside me or send electricity down my spine. Instead, it was better in a way, this first kiss brought me the peace of home. That's what Peeta became to me, my family, my home. The kisses never stopped, I always wanted more of his comfort and eventually they came with the pleasure of desire and passion.

I smile widely at the recollection and turn to catch the perfect clear blue eyes that I love.

"I remember," I tell him. I turn in his lap and do my best to recreate our kiss from so long ago. When I break from him, he is grinning just as big as me. An idea strikes.

"After the wedding will do our toasting here," I say. He kisses me again in agreement.

A short while later there is an impatient knock at the door. I roll my eyes in frustration. The most likely person to be calling at this hour was Effie Trinket. She seemed to be awake twenty-four hours a day since her announcement of the wedding. And eerily maintained a constant level of excited energy. Peeta and I had come to expect her at any moment. Just yesterday she had woken me from a dead sleep to verify the last names of several guests and remind me of my sixth scheduled dress fitting. So, naturally, I respond to the second impatient knock by cuddling more securely in Peeta's arms. He chuckles and runs his hands up and down my back.

Someone else must let in the visitor, because I am startled by a loud commotion in the entry way. The door slams, people speak quickly with frantic words, and someone is running down the stairs. We are on our feet quickly, but end up finding the party in the kitchen. Gale is laying Mrs. Undersee's lifeless body down on the flat surface of the kitchen counter. He backs away and I notice with a thrill of horror that his shirt and Mrs. Undersee's face are coated in a thick layer of blood. I have a flash of Clove's face smash inward by Thresh's large rock. Is she dead? my stomach turns at the thought. Gale moves to the side and I see a very pale and silent Madge. Her arms are folded around herself and I can see three pill bottles in her hand. I look around the room and note the absence of Mr. Undersee. Surely this wasn't the work of the Mayor? My mother and Prim are already at work, boiling water, pulling out needles and bandages, and cleaning the wound. Dr. Aurelius is calm as he assesses the women's head, but turns to Gale for answers to her state.

"How was she injured?" he asks. Gale flushes with anger. I seek Peeta's hand at my side.

"She was hit in the head," he says sternly, making it clear no more explanation will be given. Dr. Aurelius looks surprised, rather than offended.

"Are you related?" he wonders. He eyes Gale suspiciously.

"She's my mother," Madge says quietly. Her hair and clothes are a little disheveled and she looks terrified, but otherwise healthy.

"You brought her medication," my mother says softly, not to further alarm my friend.

"Yes, this is all of them," Madge says a little stronger and hands the bottles over. I try to catch Gale's focus, but he only looks back and forth between Madge and her mother. After a lot of disinfecting the wound, it is revealed as a long gash on the side of her head. My mind wonders to countless scenarios, all as unlikely as the rest. Mrs. Undersee spent most of her life tuck away in the house. What could have caused such a traumatic injury? My mother readjusts Mrs. Undersee's head into the light. A small moan issues from the woman's lips. Madge shoots forward.

"Mama," she says urgently clutching at Mrs. Undersees limp hand. There is another series of mumbles, until she opens her eyes slightly to look at Madge.

"Maysilee," she says in a weak voice. Tears swim in Madge's eyes.

"No, not Maysilee. It's Madelyn," she says in a whisper.

"I'm sorry baby, you know my medicine makes me so tired, and you look so much like her," Mrs. Undersee blinks several time.

"Madelyn, will you get my pills, my head hurts today," she says drowsily. Her eyes flutter closed and she is silent again.

"Mom," Madge says frantically. My mother gently pulls her away.

"It's ok sweetheart. We'll let her sleep now," she tells her. Madge nods in agreement.

"We are going to stitch up the wound now," my mother says to the room at large as a dismissal.

"I'll say," says Madge quickly, wrapping in on her self again.

"Gale," Peeta surprises me with his words, "We should all take a walk." Gale stares at Madge for a long moment. What I think is fear, confusion, anger, and resignation, all flash across his face.

"Alright, Mellark," he says at last with a curt nod. Peeta leads us from the house. It's long past curfew and the night is dark. We venture only as far as we think is needed to not be over heard.

"Gale, what happened" I say urgently, turning to face my old friend. He has the same anger on his face as before, but somehow I know it is not directed at me.

"I walked Madge home and we over heard Wells. The Capitol feels like the marriage laws are not being followed in the District. They said they came to teach the Mayor a lesson. They hit Mrs. Undersee and drug Mr. Undersee away...I don't know if he is alive..."

_What do you think of the idea to use more POV's? Do you like my versions of Gale and Madge so far? Please tell me what you think. Good or bad, I love to hear from you! _

_~Jules_

_P.S. I wanted to address a particular comment from TheDragonWaiting. First I want to say thank you for both of your reviews. It is encouraging to hear from people, especially when I know they have been following for a while. Further, I put a lot of thought into the story line and it is exciting to see others do the same. I love all my reviews regardless of length or content because your encouragement is wonderful. But the ones that give potential direction, like yours, can be the most helpful to the writing process. I wanted you to know that I carefully considered your suggestion, it even became the topic of debate in my household for the day. However, after rereading and careful consideration, I have left it the same. I want Gale to remain true to character, but I also want to account for the new situation he is put in. The Gale in my story is still very young, very stubborn and very proud. In this world he is forced to come to terms with Katniss and Peeta a lot faster than before. I used his thinking in this chapter to highlight those facts. As the story goes on I plan for him to grow in his own way, but for now I want some of his thoughts to be a little insensible. I kind of related it to the way Katniss feels about favors in the original books, but I have Gale's pride increased by hurt and jealousy. Finally, I just in general always thought of Gale as someone who had to be right and thrived on having some kind of control. Perhaps, in a way, this is him mentally taking control of a situation he cannot change. Please don't hesitate to bring up other plot lines you think may be off and THANK YOU again for your thoughts and words. I look forward to hearing more from ALL OF YOU!_


	11. Section 11

**Book Two: Changing Paths**

**Sequel to Wishful Thinking. Katniss's deepest desire has come true and Peeta and her have been able to return to their past to save the people they love. They continue to rewrite their future as Snow and the Capitol loom over them. What will the torn alliance with Thirteen and an emanate war mean for their future? Will they still be able to cling onto each other and all that they hold dear? Written from four perspectives: P : Peeta, K : Katniss, M : Madge, and G : Gale.**

**Enjoy and Please Review!**

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

A big thank you to all the people who have reviewed. I love the encouragement and love to hear what you think. I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! And**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

**************** THE NEWEST CHAPTER UPDATE CAN BE FOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS PAGE**********

Chapter 5

P POV

Mr. Wells waits with me in the hall, along side four unnamed Peace Keepers. The generally intimidating man, shifts nervously. I want to laugh. For all his grand talk about his influence in the Capitol, he is just as scared of Snow as the rest of us. But if I am fair about it, being in Snow circle probably brought you closer to the evil he created. I had seen the extend of his cruelty. Didn't I know better than anyone what that did to your peace of mind?

The wooden door opens and Haymitch steps out. He looks as nice as I've ever seen him. The formal black suit and white shirt are crisp. His white tie is fastened with a single pearl. Someone, probably Effie, has even convinced a shower, shave and haircut out of him. He reaches one hand up to straiten my own tie and pats my arm with the other. The smell of spirits wafts off him. Well, you can't win every battle with Haymitch, I think to myself.

"I'll look for you at the alter," he jokes lightly, but gives me a nod for good luck before leaving. Mr. Wells waves me in before him and I can't help but to feel like I am being summoned to the principle's office. That is, if the principle was your nation's ruling dictator. The room is small and bare, other than a long table in chairs. Wells motions for me to sit and I take a spot near the door.

Once we are closed in, the air becomes stagnate. I wish the weather was a little warmer and I could open the window without drawing attention to myself. The small conference room in the city office building had filled with the smell of him. Sickly roses and death. The other occupants of the room, Mr. Wells and President Snow himself, don't seem to mind. I hold my breath experimentally.

"Are you nervous, son?" Snow asks with a slight smile. Not for the reason you think, I want to say.

"Yes," I breathe out. My answer is completely honest. My heart pounds rapidly, as if to prove my point.

"Don't be. Miss Everdeen is an excellent choice for a wife, even if her cooking has not improved," he chuckles at his own joke. I force a laugh too. It sounds fake and nervous, but I get to pass it off as wedding day jitters. Whether intentional or not Snow has just reminded me how closely we are watched. No one outside of our home would know of Katniss's true skills, or lack there of, unless the Capitol had been spying on us. Which, of course, we knew they were.

"Thank you, sir." I say. His face grows serious and he takes a few steps towards me. I hold onto the arms of my chair to prevent from pulling back.

"I have limited time with you. I will only stay for the ceremony and then I must leave. But I wanted to take this opportunity to speak with you Mr. Mellark and perhaps impart some advice on you as you enter into married life," he tells me. I can't imagine any words he could give me that would make me a better husband.

"Mr. Wells tells me he has been very pleased with you. He feels you show great potential and he has graciously agreed to take you under his wing. Unfortunately, I am not so easily won over. I wonder, do you have what it takes to be a leader for your nation? " he says. I keep his gaze, hiding any sign of doubt or fear. I picture Katniss by my side, her hand tight in mine. I weigh my words carefully before speaking.

"Whatever it takes, I am committed to the vision of a new Panem," I say firmly, my eyes not moving from his cold dark pupils. I see them contract as his expression lightens.

"I look forward to seeing your personal development under Mr. Wells," Snow says with an air of smugness. I suddenly worry I had come across all wrong. Had I been too forward, too confident? Their is no way to back track now.

"Thank you, sir. I hope I meet expectation in the future," I tell him. He nods.

"Yes, my expectations, which coincide with my advice to you," he says as if recalling something very important, "I think it would be a rather nice kick off to the Quell if you and the new Mrs. Mellark had another announcement to make for the citizens of the Capitol. A growing family is a happy one. Wouldn't you agree?" he smiles widely at me. My throat is dry and I swallow hard. I am suddenly very happy Katniss is not next to me.

"Yes, sir," I manage.

"Of course, I have spoken to Mr. Abernathy again about these expectations and if any concerns should arise he will be available to answer questions. Although, he has told me there should be no concerns about you and the future Mrs. Mellark in this department," he says with some amusement, "I will let you go now, we wouldn't want to keep Miss Everdeen waiting." He approaches me quickly, hand out. I shake it and watch him exit.

I picture the meeting before this one in my head. Haymitch sitting in this same seat, telling the President about Katniss's and my sex life. Our Mentor reassuring him it should be no problem for the hormone driven teenagers to have Katniss pregnant by the next Hunger Games. Haymitch was on our side, but if he were before me now, I'm not sure I could stop myself from hitting him. Being a parent was a long lost dream of mine. Another wish that had been destroyed after Prim died. It had, naturally, been in the back of my mind since the day Haymitch told me about the birth control, but Katniss and I had never spoken of it. The idea was too horrible. It wasn't just the Games we had to fear, it was our involvement with the Rebellion as well. What would they do to the child of a spy? I cringed at the very thought.

My mind scrambles for a way out. Maybe there was birth control somewhere. Perhaps we could push it off a few years. Maybe we could convince Snow that me couldn't conceive. With this last thought, my heart sinks to the floor. Like everything out of Snow's mouth, this wasn't a request. It was a demand we had to follow. Hiding, lying, or trying to trick the Capitol would be a mistake in this case. I could see them dragging us into one of their high tech hospitals. They would poke and prod us both until they could confirm our general health and then Snow would be livid. Any carefully crafted confidence in me would be shattered. It would only set us all back, maybe even years, from winning this silent war.

Years, I thought, was what it would take for us to succeed. The Capitol was starting to trust me, but a soon to be seventeen year old didn't run a nation. Reaping age was twelve. If we had a child now could we end the games before their ticket came up? It was a long time. The war in our last life could easily fit into that period four times over. Plus, we had the added benefit, or problem, of Coin. If we couldn't get to Snow, she still might. She was two thousand men stronger and just as vengeful as ever. Even if she brought up her previous idea of a Games with Capitol children, we would be safe. I immediately felt embarrassed for even thinking it. The rationalization I had just stumbled into, 'as long as it's not my kid', was probably what Capitol citizens thought year after year as they enjoyed the Games. It wasn't just my speaking voice that was getting an accent, I was starting to think like them too. I think of Haymitch's words, just months ago. 'There will be a point when you will have to choose between what is right and the safety of your family', he had said. I would save my family, but I won't let them change me, not again, I think bitterly.

We would have a family, because it wasn't an option. I would do everything in my power to protect Katniss and the future child. Including laying down my own life. But I wordlessly made an even greater promise to them. I would be smarter, stronger, and better than the Capitol. I was committed to a new Panem. I would take down the government and build something much better. And my children would only know of that version of the world.

"It's a lot to take in," says Wells from behind me. I had forgotten his presents.

"It is," I agree.

"But I think you can handle it, with some training of corse," he tells me. It takes me a minute to figure out he is talking about my leadership potential.

"Thank you, I will work hard to learn," I say.

"I have to tell you that unfortunately the leadership position for you I had mentioned is off the table for now," he hedges. I recklessly throw out my words.

"The Mayor is returning?" I say with genuine curiosity and an undertone of relief, that I hope he doesn't hear.

"So you have heard," he smirks, "you must have good ears. Not a bad thing, when you work for the Capitol, but just remember not everything you hear is meant to be repeated. More specifically, not everything you know should be let on to others. Do you understand?" The existence of Thirteen, the Rebellion, and the coming war, all tucked away in my mind, I nod at him with conviction.

"Good. To answer your question: Mr. Undersee will be returning to his family. He has been...re-educated by some...persuasive promises. The Capitol thinks he will comply now and are willing to give him this chance. I'm not convinced he'll make it," Wells states lightly.

"No?" I question.

"No, I have a feeling that this particular persuasion will back fire on him. And then we can try out your leadership skills. Until then you stick with me," he smiles cheerfully, as if he has given me a great privilege. I feel the end of his speech and rise to take his hand. He crushes my fingers aggressively, like an overactive child showing dominance over his school yard friends. I return half of the pressure. He ushers me from the office and towards the exit of the building.

"Peeta, where have you been? We're running behind already. Come with me. Hurry," Effie appears out of nowhere. Her expression is wild with stress and she is dressed in a ridiculous shade of turquoise. She looks like a tropical bird. It shakes me from my thoughts and I laugh.

"For goodness sake Peeta, this is not funny! This is the most important day of your life. I have worked tirelessly to make this special for Katniss and you," she scolds me, stomping her feet comically. I bite back another laugh and she whisks me away, without a look back at Wells.

I must be as late as Effie says, because sooner than I had imagined, I find myself on the steps of the city building. I stand alone other than the presiding Official. He's old and looks a little bored. But Effie had brought him directly from the Capitol, siting a long list of 'important' people who had been married by this same man.

The sea of spectators before me is arranged by significance, according to Ms. Trinket herself. My mother and father sit in front of me at the right side of the isle. Mrs. Everdeen on the left, next to a Capitol official and two seats from Snow. The next several rows are full of visitors to the District. People from the Capitol wearing obnoxious colors like Effie, fidget excitedly at the site of me. They came on the morning train for the event and I had no doubt Snow was also using today as a fund raising event. Farther back, filling in the rows of seating was the rest of Twelve. The contrast in dress made it easy to distinguish them over Capitol folk, even if I didn't recognize faces. Most people from the District were dressed nice, but plainly. I wondered how many had on reaping clothes today? I note the position of the camera men. They won't be capturing our true friends today. The viewers will be more interested in the costumes from the Capitol.

A gentle hum of orchestra music fills the square. People turn in there seats to watch the precession of the bridal party. Jimi and Madge Undersee appear first. Jimi wears a suit similar to Haymitch, but his own tie is a soft pink that matches Madge's dress. The material of the gown is light, probably silk. Her face and hair are elaborate, but the whole effect is flattering on her. She holds her head high and smiles, but looks uncomfortable. Whether it's all the sets of eyes on her or just the events of the past week, I can't be sure. Regardless the make-up Cinna has carefully placed on her hides the dark circles under her eyes, from so many sleepless nights. The audience will only see the beauty of this girl, not her struggles. I wish I could tell her about her father. Spare her any more worry, but the time and place are all wrong. And Wells had just cautioned me on the use of new information. All I could hope was that the Mayor would return soon. If not by tomorrow, I would have to find a covert way to tell her he was okay.

Bailey and Primrose follow minutes later. Bailey in the formal wear of a Peace Keeper and Prim in the same dress as Madge. I am slightly appalled that she looks just as mature as the previous girl. Had Katniss approved this outfit? I already felt the protective nature over Prim, I often saw from Katniss. She was my sister now too and I didn't care for the look of surprise and awe I caught on Rory Hawthorne's face as she passed.

All this falls away as the music changes to a classic wedding march, only used in the Capitol. I can't spare a glance for Haymitch at her side. Katniss is breath taking and all consuming. I am pleased to see the same dress from our past, the one that has starred in all my day dreams. My eyes follow the soft plump curve of her pink lips and the dramatic plunge of the neckline, down to the tops of her blushing chest. Her small waist is hugged securely in the smooth fabric, where I will soon wrap my arms. Though she is facing me, I can visualize the long row of pearl buttons at the back already. I want to run my hands through the curls in her hair and strip her of the elaborate gown to find the perfection beneath.

May be I'll tell her about Snow tomorrow instead...

Chapter 6

G POV

He gently dips her body and then pulls her back, his lips meeting her ear. The chime of their laughter echos out over the square. People around them turn to look and break into a chorus of 'oohs' and 'aws'. Only Capitol citizens would react so ridiculous. I fix my eyes back onto her. She is still smiling. I can practically see the joy roll off her as she holds his gaze. Katniss Everdeen will never look at me the way she is staring at Peeta Mellark right now. Katniss Mellark, I think bitterly, that is her new name.

"Give me a heads up if you see a blue wig coming in this direction. I can't stand much more of that woman today." Haymitch Abernathy, Victor, Mentor, and unofficial town drunk, plops down in a chair at my side. He looks tired, but uncharacteristically put together. That is, until he pulls a large flask from the inside pocket of his suit and takes a long drink. He places the container back safely an eyes me skeptically.

"Not enjoying the party Hawthorne?" I am not surprised he knows my name, even if we have never spoken. He could know me for any number of reasons, my time in the old Hob, my interview during the Games, and of corse, my friendship with Katniss.

"Not really my type of event," I say blandly. The ceremony and reception had been something never seen in Twelve. Hoards of imported flowers and food lined the square. The music that filled the air was the newest tunes from the Capitol, not our traditional folk music. Even the table and chairs we now sat at was over the top. Smooth leather upholstery covered the seats and the delicate table cloth and napkins were made from white silk. Earlier, I had run into a group of Seam girls plotting how to remove them unnoticed. I imagined in the weeks to come white silk shirts, skirts, and dresses would pop up around the District. I felt sure Katniss had no part in the planning of this event, it didn't seem like her at all. But then again, she was enjoying herself.

My eyes fall back to her. She is now twirling in circles with Prim. Haymitch must be following my look.

"If it's any consolation, Peeta's a good man," he says kindly. Anger rises in me. I already knew how wonderful the great Peeta Mellark was. The Capitol had been singing his praises for months.

"Like you would say any different. You're his mentor," I spit out. He laughs at me. It doesn't improve my mood.

"I would actually. Because I can tell you that girl your staring at, the one I care about like a daughter, is stubborn as hell and can be as mean and nasty as a Tracker Jacker when she wants to," Haymitch proclaims. I laugh in spite of myself. The old man had Katniss down to a tee. He has the flask out again and offers it to me. I don't resist. I welcome the numb of drink now and I greedily drain the container.

"Sorry," I say handing it back. He shakes his head a little to relay that he is not offended and reaches back to pull a second flask from another pocket. He hands me this one as well. I hesitate for a moment and end up taking a much smaller swig. I enjoy the burn.

"I thought you were hanging around with the Undersee girl these days," he pries. He points at the dance floor away from Katniss. Madge Undersee is currently dancing in the arms of one of Peeta's brothers. The boy had been in my year at school. His name was stupid, like Peeta's. Bailey, I thought it was. They moved together separated by an inch or two, but his hands set low on her frame. His long fingers were wrapped around her thin middle, indecently close to her full hips. Unbidden annoyance flared in me.

"She's been tutoring me and since the Mayor's absence I've been checking on her and Mrs. Undersee," I say, defensively,"we're friends," I add for clarification. I wondered to myself when I had made Madge a friend in my mind. The days after her father's disappearance I found myself increasingly worried for her. I couldn't guarantee Wells and the Peace Keepers would not return to the Undersee home. The few times she had made it over to help me study I had insisted on walking her back to town. My only explanation was a very selfish one. I was sure if I lost this girl, I would lose all hope in passing anymore of the Capitol's tests. Maybe my new friendship was my way of not feeling so guilty about using her. This way I could protect her and ensure my family stayed in the new house.

"A friend, like Katniss is a friend," Haymitch says, I am livid at the comparison as well as him openly addressing my feeling toward the new Mrs. Mellark, but he doesn't give me time for a retort.

"If I was a friend, I don't think I would allow that Mellark boy to make her so uncomfortable," he says looking out over the dance floor. My protective nature wins out over my frustration, I turn to find Madge. They are roughly in the same position, but I notice her arms, which rest at his shoulders, are a little stiff. Bailey's eye's roam uninhibited over her body. The delicate pink dress she wears bunches slightly at her bust and he unabashedly looks down at what is exposed of her chest. She nervously pulls her long golden curls over one shoulder. She blushes greatly, but smiles. I consider cutting in, but it is hard to tell if she is just being shy or if she is to polite to defend herself.

"What's it to you Abernathy," I say gruffly.

"Let's just say she reminds me of someone I use to know. And I don't trust those boys once they come back from Peace Keeper training. District two has a habit of taking well mannered young men and turning them into pigs," he takes another drink, "but you didn't hear that from me." Madge is giggling a little now and my muscles relax too soon. Bailey takes advantage of her ease and slides a hand down on her hip. The surprise is clear on her face. I'm out of my seat and just before I reach them he leans in to plant a kiss on her lips. With unnatural strength for someone so small, she shoves him away and wraps her arms around her chest. I step quickly between them. Bailey stares up at me in annoyance and I glare with anger. The commotion has not gone unnoticed and several people stop to watch, maybe waiting for a fight. I stand tall, I'm not backing down. Walking away will be his call. He looks around, perhaps catching on to some of the Capitol officials nearby. He shrugs, as if blowing the situation off, and leaves us.

I turn to Madge. Her arms are still tight around herself and she is looking self consciously around at the crowd. I can't think of what to say to her and the stares are starting to make me feel awkward as well. So I grab one of her arms and lightly pull her towards me. She responds instantly and buries her face in my chest. I rest my hands on her upper back. The dress leaves her skin bare, even there. It feels soft under my large hands, but I keep them still in a respectful manner. Her own hands press hard into my back and I can feel the heat of her red face on the skin under my dress shirt. I turn us slowly on the spot. We are not at all keeping in time with the music, but our viewers soon grow board and look away.

"Are you okay," I ask her when I feel like we have privacy. It's a stupid question, but all I can come up with. She moves away from my chest a little. Her expression is calm but sad, the same look she has been wearing most of the week. Her face is painted in soft colors and a single curl is stuck to one of her cheeks. I push it back, out of the way. Her tired green eyes hold mine.

"Gale," she says in almost a whisper, "will you take me home now."

Chapter 7

K POV

"Do you think she'll catch us," I say conspiratorially.

"No and if she does, it's to late. She can't make me go back now," Peeta laughs. The District car stops in front of my house.

"Should we run for it," he asks still chuckling.

"Not in this dress and these heels," I say in mock horror.

"Okay then," he opens the door and steps out before reaching for my hand, "I'll carry my new bride all the way." I exit the vehicle and am hoisted into his arms. We laugh together again, as poor Peeta gets a face full of satin and pearls.

He refuses to set me down until he gets me all the way into the house and in front of the unlit fire. I kneel on the carpeted hearth of the fire place, trying to position my formal gown around and under me. Peeta leaves and with impressive speed he returns with bread and kindling.

"You in a hurry," I smirk at him. He blushes slightly. We both have been eagerly awaiting this night. In truth, if it wasn't such an important tradition in Twelve, I would forget the toasting all together and have him take me to bed now. But as Peeta once said, no one ever really feels married until they have one.

"I'm sorry," he says a little abashed, "do you want to wait for your mother and Prim." He is being sincere, but I really am too inpatient.

"No. We'll leave the rest of the bread here and the fire going. They'll put two and two together and we'll see them in the morning," I tell him with a gentle peck on his lips. He hands me the small pile of wood and dry branches. He arranges each piece carefully in the fireplace, taking much longer than usual. I wonder if he is trying to prove a point that his intentions are good. When he finishes he hands me a small box of matches and allows me to light the it. I understand quickly what he has done. He has so precisely crafted this fire that it blazes in an instant without further provocation. I watch the kindling leaves curl as they burn and the room fills with a dozen rich scents. I can pick out pine, cedar, juniper, rosewood, and sandalwood. He is watching for my reaction.

"You went through a lot of trouble for this," I tell him in realization. He smiles sheepishly.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

"It's perfect," I say and this time he pulls me in for a longer kiss.

"I think we're suppose to toast the bread first and then kiss," I tease. He slices two small pieces from the loaf and spears the first on the knife. Without delay he dips it into the flames and takes the hot bread back in his hand. It's my turn then and I repeat his action. We exchange the toast bits by feeding them to one another. Peeta stares into my eyes for a long time and I savior the moment, lost in the deep blue irises. Slowly, sweetly he kisses me.

As husband and wife we walk hand and hand to my new home. At the door Peeta insists on carrying me again. I feel a little silly, but I allow it.

"Do you hear that?" he says as he shuts the door and heads for the stairs.

"No..." I say confused.

"That is the sound of a house all to our selves," we both laugh we little. Effie, Cinna, and Portia had moved their things out this morning. The Quell was five months away and now that the wedding was over, things were suppose to slow down. Effie had reassured us several times that she was a phone call away, but be shouldn't need her. We pretended to be appropriately sad for her leaving and I was genuinely going to miss Cinna, but Peeta and I quietly rejoiced at the initial news. We needed to be left alone, even for this short time.

Peeta sits me on the side of the bed and takes the place beside me. Slowly, tentatively he brushes the hair from my shoulder and examines my neck. He runs his fingers from it's base to behind my ear in a repetitive motion. It's a soothing feeling, calm. He is readjusting the pace of the day and making his intentions clear. He plans to make love to me and he is going to make it last. I shutter slightly in anticipation.

He brings his lips to where his hand had just been and continued to follow the same line. My eyes flutter close and I allow only the sensation of feel. The kisses he traces on me gain in pressure. He reaches his hand to the back of my dress. His sure fingers undo the buttons at my back. His teeth graze my skin suddenly under my ear.

"Peeta..." I moan into the quiet room. My own hand finds purchase on his thigh. I caress his leg, as I feel the back of my dress open completely. He stands in front of me and strips off the jacket of his tuxedo. I stand to join him. He cups my face and captures my lips. Like all his movements tonight they are slow, but their is a strong undertone of want there. I unbutton his top and only break from him to remove his undershirt. He pulls me back with more force and I part my lips for his tongue. My hands roam freely now. My fingers tangle in the curl at his neck briefly before dropping down to his back. I run light pressure over his spine. I grab firmly when I reach his shoulders and deepen the kiss. My lips are getting urgent and my tongue circles his. He grasps my waist securely. I venture my touch to the bare expanse of his chest, rubbing my palms over his pecks. He smiles into my lips and pulls away.

"I love you," he tells me sincerely. His hand, still at my sides, gently pulls the gown down. He kneels in front of me to drop the garment all the way to the ground and then stares up at me in adoration. This is not our true first time by a long shot, but as he takes in my already bare chest and small lace panties, I can't stop my blush. He stands again before me.

"You are so beautiful," he says brushing my cheek with the backs of his fingers. He lifts me suddenly out of the dress at my feet and places me laying on the bed. He joins me, setting one leg between both of mine and his arms supporting him by my head. He coaxes my head down to the pillow with his gentle kisses. The house is cold, but my body is on fire. He runs his tongue down to one of my nipples and swirls around it. I push my hands through his golden hair and force his mouth down on my breast. He complies, sucking the taut center. I feel the heat spread to the pit of my stomach. I silently beg for his leg to move higher. My body is becoming needy. I want to feel all of him.

"I need you," I say in a pant. He moves down my body again, kissing the ticklish skin of my abdomen. I squirm slightly and I hear him chuckle. It's a husky sound, full of his own desirer. He slides my panties from my legs. I shiver as I lose his contact and the wet of my center cools in the open air. He positions his face between my legs. I want to protest. I want to tell him that I need him inside me, but I lose focus. His tongue runs up to part the lips between my legs. He moves to press his mouth to the moister there and finds my entrance. He teases me, pressing lightly into the tight space.

"Peeta, it feels so good," I tell him. He replies by moving his wet mouth to my nub higher up. I moan and he circles it in a gentle pattern. Swirling around the base and occasionally right over top. All I can do is breathe and hold onto him. I feel my muscles tighten in my stomach and my legs tremble slightly. Before I come, he pulls away. He kneels on the bed between my knees, working on his belt. I sit up and take it in my own hands. He holds my face and plants kisses on my head as I free him from his pants and boxers. He only allows me to graze the length of him before he pushes me back to the pillows. The welcome feel of his bare chest against my taut breast returns. I moan in pleasure at the sensation. He finishes pulling off his bottoms and his large erection sits stiffly between us. He looks into my eyes again, us both filled with want.

"I love you," I say, capturing his lips. I wind my legs around his waist, allowing him better access. He parts my lips with his and tangles his tongue with mine. I feel the hardness of him caress my center. He settles in my wetness and takes one of my hands in his. I lift my head to allow his arm behind it. He steadies himself and pushes into me. The pressure is overwhelming. He still feels so large in my new body, but it's not pain, rather a pleasurable, building tension. He assesses my state and then rocks forward. My body stretches to accommodate him. It's so impossibly good. I claw at his back and hip urging for more. He fills me complete on the next movement.

"Yes," I gasp into our open mouthes. He needs no further encouragement. His lips close over mine to silence my moans and he begins a consistent pattern of thrusts. He is quiet and concentrated, no doubt holding out for me. He brushes again and again on to the pulsating spot his mouth had been. My legs start to shake again. He leaves my lips and tucks his head next to mine, still focused. His hot heavy breathing comes fast against my ear. I am tingling all over. I can only moan in encouragement.

"I want you to come with me," he breathes. Ever muscle in his body tenses in his struggle. He pushes into me brushing agains my apex, once, twice, three times and I come hard. My muscles clutching and releasing around his length.

"Katniss," he gasps. He thrusts deep inside me, coming as my heart beats out a loud rhythm. He rolls to his back and I rest over his own racing heart. Surrounded in Peeta's warmth and love I close my eyes. Whatever comes tomorrow or the next day, I have found complete happiness with my husband. The security and confidence I have in his arms can carry me through the worst the Capitol has to offer.

Chapter 8

M POV

"Gale, will you take me home now," I ask, even though I shouldn't. It wasn't Gale's responsibility to take care of me. He had enough to worry about taking care of his whole family without the added weight of the poor Mayor's daughter. But I had gotten spoiled, too quickly, on relying on him.

"Of course," he says. The light smell of liquor hits me and I feel that much worse. Gale had been drinking, probably having fun with friends. I was pulling him away from a good time. I should tell him I'm okay on my own. But I don't. He steers me toward the end of the square and out to the road.

"I'm sorry," he says, "did you need to get anything?" All of my comfortable, warm clothes sat in the now empty bedroom back at Peeta's. It was a lot farther away than my tired legs wanted to go.

"No, this is it," I motion down to the dress. He glances at it and then averts his eyes quickly. I wrap my arms around my chest to block out the chill of the night, as well as further embarrassment. The dress was beautiful, I couldn't deny it, even if I wanted to. Cinna worked magic far beyond my skills. The perfect shade of pink silk rolls over two thin shoulder straps and settles at my waist before plunging dramatically to the floor. It was kind of attire that should be worn by one of the more friendly and flirty girls in Twelve. Not by Madge Undersee, who looked awkward and still managed to draw all the wrong kind of attention. Gale still wasn't looking at me. Which made me think I was right, at least about looking ridiculous. Bailey Mellark on the other hand, hadn't been able to stop staring.

My first kiss wasn't suppose to feel like that. It shouldn't be hasty and unwelcome from someone I hardly knew. It shouldn't make my skin crawl, because the person delivering it has made me so terribly uncomfortable all night. And it definitely shouldn't end with a crowd of gawking spectators. I owed Gale for saving me from that situation as well.

"I wanted to tell you earlier, but I only got the letter from the train today," he says, "I passed my test."

"That's wonderful, I knew you would. You had that information down, like the back of your hand," I smile at him. I was more than happy, I was relieved. I had cost him a lot of sleep the night before the exam and I was sure if he failed it would only be because of me.

"I guess we should start the next book then," I say tentatively.

"That would be helpful," he smiles at me.

"Should I come by Monday after school or do you want me sooner?" I ask. Something I said must have come out all wrong, because he looks surprised for a moment before collecting himself.

"Monday would be fine," he says more serious now. We have made the short trip to my house already. I wave him goodbye and turn to go in the house.

"Madelyn Undersee," he says suddenly, still in a serious tone. My heart quickens. I register the use of my full name. It doesn't make me nervous, the way my father does when he says it as scolding. Nor does it feel soothing, like my mothers voice. Instead a thousand butterflies spring to life in my stomach. I turn to face him. There is no joke in his expression.

"You looked really nice today," he tells me. His dark eyes look directly into mine. The winged creatures inside me flap so hard they fill my chest as well.

"Thank you, Gale..." I barely get out before he is gone, back down the street. I can't reconcile his behavior in my head. Since the night with my father, Gale had been a lot softer towards me. I had written it off as pity. It was only natural to feel bad for a girl in tears. But this was new. This was something beyond pity or duty. He was being nice, just because. Had we become friends? I think we have. I can't help but smile. I had been so patient with stubborn Gale Hawthorne and now I had earned his friendship. It was a nice feeling. But I wondered idly why it mattered so much. It probably had to do with my innate need to please others. Something rooted deep in my personality, that made me so anxious when someone disliked me. It was another silly trait of mine. Something that my best friend would never worry about. Katniss did what she wanted and didn't apologize for her happiness. I wish I could be the same.

I am a little startled when I enter the house through the kitchen. It's dark, but I can see lights on in the dining room across the hall. The house keeper would be gone for the day and my mother had been in bed for a week. When she did rise, it was only to the bathroom or to sit and cry in my father's up stairs study. Even food, I had to bring her or she would go hungry. I couldn't imagine what had brought her down here this late, especially without my help on the stairs. With a thrill of terror, I wondered if it wasn't my mother. Had the Peace Keepers returned for us? If so they were being very quiet about it. Not their usual style. Maybe they thought Gale was still with me. They could be avoiding a fight by waiting to ambush me. I thought fleetingly of running back outside to find my new friend. He would come inside to check if I ask. But I couldn't bother him anymore tonight. Besides if they were here for us, their was nothing I or Gale Hawthorne could do about it. Mr. Wells and the Capitol had us all at their mercy.

I straiten my stance and move forward toward the light, trying to face my fait with dignity. What I find in the dining room is much more alarming, but also much better than an ambush. My father, or at least what Wells has returned of him, sits in his usual place at the table. The sight is jarring. His face is a pattern of new and old bruising. Some spots yellowing with age, while other stand out red, as if he has just been hit. His right eye is almost completely swelled shut and there is a large scab on his top lip. He looks filthy, still in the same clothes I had seen him last, and thinner than I remember. Food and showers must not be part of re-education in Panem. I don't care about the dry blood on his shirt against my pretty dress and I completely forget about the possible hidden injuries under his clothes. I launch myself towards him. He lets out a small 'humf' when I squeeze into him, but he doesn't pull away. He moves us a little and I find myself positioned on one of his knees, the way I would sit with him as a child. I cry before I can stop myself, with both grief and joy. He pats my back gently in comfort and I find tears in his own puffy eyes.

"You look so beautiful. I had almost forgotten I had the best girls in Panem waiting for me at home," he tries to smile. It looks painful. My mother, at his side, is clutching his hand tightly for support. She looks just as horrified by his condition as I am, but she is oddly alert.

"We should take you to the Everdeen's," I say. I am sure some of his wounds should be looked at.

"It's worse than it looks. Nothing a bath, food, and some rest won't clear up," he tries to reassure me. I want to argue, but there is no such thing as arguing with my father. He was generally fair, but he was the absolute say in everything. I learned young to bite my tongue and follow directions.

"Then we'll feed you," I say quickly, "What would you like best?" I rise to go to the kitchen.

"No," my mother says suddenly.

"You should explain to her first," she says to my father. I am taken back by the clarity and firmness of her words. There is no hint of drugs in her manner. It has been a long time since I have seen her this lucid. My father nods at her request and motions for me to sit in the chair next to him. I see him collect his thoughts carefully

"Madelyn," he begins, I swallow with difficulty, "the Capitol is not happy with me." This much I knew. It was literally beaten into his face.

"During my time with them, they made certain threats," he continues. I can't imagine what else they will do to him if he doesn't obey. Aside from just killing him, I think bitterly.

"Maybe if you follow what they say, it will be okay. They can't punish you twice for the same thing. Can they?" I ask him, although I am sure the Capitol is not this reasonable.

"Honey, it's not just about me," he leads in. My eyes dart to my mother frantically. But she doesn't look scared for herself. She is focused completely on my face. It only takes a second to know for certain, the Capitol threats are all aimed at me. What would they do? Beat me like my father? Turn me into one of their avox servants? Or just kill me out right? I looked around, almost expecting Wells to burst through the doors and sentence me.

"They can't do anything to you outright," my father explains, probably anticipating my questions, "it wouldn't be right in the eyes of the citizens to take a girl seemingly innocent of any crime."

"What will they do to me then?" I whisper. My father reaches out to take my hand. We sit for awhile, all three linked and in silence. His pause is so long I start to think he has no other knowledge. The idea of an unknown future at the hands of the Capitol id daunting.

"You're older than most of the other eligible children and with the new allowances, you'll have more slips than most," my father says. I scramble to understand his words, they make no sense.

"No one will think to question it when they draw your name," he says. His tired eyes are full of sadness and loss. I finally understand. They will wait out my father's true punishment until reaping day and then they will take me. He's right, it's the perfect cover. I probably am one of the only seventeen year olds who could even be picked at this point. It would be the quarter Quell this year. The irony of it was not lost on me. Exactly twenty-five years ago another member of my family, a Donner, instead of an Undersee was reaped and fell casualty to the Games. I could see the sheer delight in Caesar Flickerman's eyes already. The whole nation would have such a treat to see all the old reruns of my aunts death and then watch mine. But I wasn't as resourceful or brave as Maysilee. I would never last as long as her. The disappointment of my early defeat would be great for my District and any sponsors I manage to get with my bloodline. I look at my mother again. Unshed tears swim in her green eyes. Who would take care of her when I was gone? My father was a good man, but he sometimes tired of her constant illness.

There was one upside to knowing now. I had the benefit of time on my side. Like the careers of some other districts, I could try to gain strength. It was a long stretch, but it was hope.

"I'll try to come back," I say to her. She shakes her head slightly.

"You would never make it out," my father says. It feels like a harsh thing to admit to your own daughter. It is a slap in the face to the little confidence I have.

"They wouldn't let you win," he explains, but it does nothing for my self esteem. Part of me wishes for Gale. I was sure he would think the same as my father, but he might take more pity on me. I could almost feel his strong arms around my body, shielding away my cruel destiny. I hang my head in defeat. My tears splash down the front of my silk gown, staining the delicate pink fabric.

"We can't chance it. We will have to act soon and it will have to be believable," My father says. I wonder if he will try to send me away.

"Your mother tells me you have still been spending a lot of time with the Hawthorne boy." I nod. Maybe he thinks Gale, experienced hunter and trapper, can take me into the woods.

"He'll be your best bet as a husband," my father announces, "It will look the most natural. If they question it, we can point out your past friendship." My heart sinks. Going into the Games or running off into the woods were both better options than trying to get Gale Hawthorne to marry me. He was much too good a man for the silly, desperate Mayors daughter. I could handle his stubbornness better than most, but he would never want me. He would never accept my proposal and if he did, I would make him miserable. He should be with a girl he loved, even if he couldn't have Katniss. Surely, someone else would catch his eye in time.

"No!" I say stubbornly

"Madelyn, you will get married," my father says, all softness gone from his voice. My mind scrambles for another alternative, a way to save Gale from my own bad luck.

"Another boy then," I search around for a single man to list. There were so few and it was hard to think of any of them showing enough interest in me to accept.

"Bailey Mellark." I say with a shaky voice. I picture the way his eyes roamed over me. It was repulsive to think about, but I thought I may have one way, at least, to persuade him. My father is considering this. Perhaps thinking of how to craft a relationship between us. My heart beats loudly. I am equally terrified of either option. A life with Gale would only hurt him, but a life with Bailey was imaginable.

"No," my mother says firmly. Her eyes are wide and set on my father. He meets her gaze.

"I will not lose her," she tells him, bringing both her hands to rest along his neck. Her face is full of a more intense desperation than my own. SHe looks very old and very ill, but her voice is so strong.

"I will die with her. It has to be right. It has to be the Hawthorne boy," she demands. my father nods in agreement. My mother never asks for anything, he would never deny her in a moment like this. But it wasn't really up to them. Gale could say no.

"He'll never agree," I say confidently, but I sound like a protesting child. My father turns back to me, his own mind set.

"I will talk to him myself," he says firmly, "he won't refuse the Mayor." I watch his expression long enough for it all to sink in. My father did not have the might of the Capitol, but he did still control District Twelve and Cray. If needed he would use other means to sway Gale. And despite my desire to fight him, refuse the marriage on my end, and even volunteer to go into the Games as alternative, I knew my battle was lost. I buried my face in my hands and tried not to think about the look Gale would give me at the alter.


	12. Section 12

**Book Two: Changing Paths**

**Sequel to Wishful Thinking. Katniss's deepest desire has come true and Peeta and her have been able to return to their past to save the people they love. They continue to rewrite their future as Snow and the Capitol loom over them. What will the torn alliance with Thirteen and an emanate war mean for their future? Will they still be able to cling onto each other and all that they hold dear? Written from four perspectives: P : Peeta, K : Katniss, M : Madge, and G : Gale.**

**Enjoy and Please Review!**

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

A big thank you to all the people who have reviewed. I love the encouragement and love to hear what you think. I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! And**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

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Chapter 9

P POV

The late morning sun shines from the window over Katniss's perfect form. I admire the soft curve of her bare hip and breasts. I run my hand through the messy tangle of her dark brown hair. She is magnificent. I want to hold onto this moment forever. I consider reaching into my bed side table to retrieve my sketch book and pencil. She had never let me draw her in the nude before, but maybe in the euphoria from our night together she would reconsider. I would promise to keep this particular art work to myself.

As if hearing my dubious thoughts, she stirs. Her eyes blink into focus and a light smile plays at her lips once she spots me. I don't hide my own joy. I lean over to give her a kiss, smiling broadly.

"Good morning Mrs. Mellark," I say sweetly. Her sleepy expression scrunches into a weak scowl.

"Too possessive?" I say with a chuckle, "I suppose you could still go by Everdeen or both of us could be Everdeens..."

"No," she shakes her head in amusement, "they would never allow it anyways." Her words remind me of all the things I still need to tell her. Particularly about what the Capitol will allow, or rather demands. I push it off just a few minutes more, enjoying the last of my peace.

"So why the look?" I ask.

"When you say Mrs. Mellark I expect to see your mother behind me," she says seriously, but her honesty causes a loud round of laughter from me.

"I can see that," I say as I catch my breath, "that is a scowl worthy thought." She laughs too.

"But I don't mind being Katniss Mellark. It will take getting use to and it is kinda possessive, but if I am going to belong to anyone, it's you," she tells me.

"See, that is where you are wrong, love. You have always had my heart and I am the one who belongs to you," I say. She rolls over on top of me. Her smooth bare legs encompass my thighs. She leans in, surrounding me in a curtain of loose hair and captures my lips. She bounces, just slightly in my lap, letting her intentions be known. She is ready for round two. My desire for her flares, but my guilt pushes back at it. I need to tell her. Even if it is out of our hands. And even if she has already allowed me to make love to her unprotected. She still has the right to know. It's her body and she has to agree or at least understand. It's only right.

"Katniss," I say breathlessly, "I need to talk to you first." She laughs and runs her hands down to where I sit hard between our bodies.

"Are you sure?" she says. She doesn't wait for my answer. She's quick with her movements and makes her way off me in an instant. She repositions herself in front of me and holds me at my base with one of her soft hands. My mind whirls around torn between right and what I am feeling physically. My words are rushed and I know I am not making much sense.

"Your going to end up getting pregnant," I say quickly.

"Not like this," she smirks at me and slides her tongue out to caress the head of my member. I unwillingly moan and she takes it as a cue. Her mouth swallows my length down to the hand at my base.

"No," I gasp, "I mean, that's what Snow expects." I use the magic word. She retracts from me completely. Scooting over to the far side of the bed. Almost unknowingly, she curls in on herself, bringing the sheet to cover her.

"What are you talking about?" she questions me. My erection is deflating, but still present. I'm embarrassed by the weakness under her scrutiny. I cover myself with a pillow and try not to look ashamed for not saying something sooner.

"He talked to me before the wedding. He told me I should learn to be a leader under Wells," I start out with the least offensive information I am able to say and be heard telling her in the house. She nods in understanding but waits for more. This is not what I need to explain. I take a deep breath and try to imagine how they would want me to say this to her. What words sound appropriately compliant to Snow's request, without angering her.

"Snow thought it would be nice for us to have a baby," I hedge. Her face is a mask of anger, but she must be thinking what I am. When she speaks her voice sounds light, conversational.

"So soon?" she asks me.

"He thought it would be a good time to announce it at the Quell..." I say.

"Oh," is all I get in return. A dozen emotions flit across her face. I reach for her in comfort, but she pulls away, standing suddenly. She moves to the dresser. Shuffling through the draws with unnecessary force, she finds a shirt and pajama bottoms that will fit her. I realize what she is doing and I match her movements. I won't let her run away so upset. Katniss always ran when her emotions got the best of her, but it never really helped her. She just delayed the pain that much longer. There were times she had hated me restraining or following after her, but it alway helped. In the end she was always grateful to have me. And somehow I knew what to say to bring her back to me.

She finishes dressing before me and is down the stairs as I am pulling on my own shirt. When she gets out the front door, she runs out right. It's Sunday and the builders will be home with their families, so no one is around to see her dash into her old backyard and me follow. The gate she pushes through swings back to hit me

"Katniss," I call frantically, "where are you going?" She doesn't answer me. Instead she goes to the far corner of the yard, were a small patch of strawberries had set. She falls down in the dirt by the remaining branches. Her hands shoot forward and she violently rips several out by the roots. I get through the gate and I drop down beside her. I try to still her hands, but she pushes me back with unexpected rage.

"They want everything from us! They take something good or wonderful and twist it till it means nothing,"she seethes, "it's not fair."

"No, it's not," I say honestly.

"No matter what I do, it won't change things. He'll get what he wants. Even if it is my body. Even if it should be only between you and I," she says. I don't answer, she has come to the same conclusion I had. She rips out three more plants.

"Of all the things he could ask of us, of me, this is what he demands. Why does he even want us to have a child? Someone to reap down the line? Or just another person to hold over our heads and threaten?" she sounds hysterical. Her eyes are wide with anger and grief.

"No," I whisper fiercely, "I won't let any of that happen. I will end all of this. I will make it safe."

"You can't say that, Peeta. You don't know for sure. Nothing is the same anymore. The rule book is completely out the window. We could be blindsided at any moment. And where will I be then? she scowls. Her hands tug at a stubborn root and the vine cuts into her hand. She gasps and draws back. The cut is surprisingly deep and blood runs down the side of her dirty palm. I reach out to help her, but she curls her hand in a fist and pulls it out of sight.

"I'll be fat and slow and pregnant. They'll have me at my mercy. They could just take you away then. They could hurt you again and I could do nothing to stop then. They're making me weak," she says with desperation. I grab her shoulders roughly so that she looks at me finally.

"You're right, it's not right to ask of us, force out of us. I know having a child won't make things any easier. But I promise I am not going anywhere you aren't. And I will never let them take me again. I will be strong enough for all of us. I promise with everything I have," I tell her. She shakes her head, but it is not a response to my words, it's defeat for the hopeless fight against Snow's new request. I don't feel triumph for convincing her or subduing her anger, I feel sick. The decision of whether or not to have children should happen years from now in the calm of each others arms. We should have time to plan and think things over. We should want it. But I don't, just as much as her.

"I'm not ready," she cries, "I knew it would happen. I was stupid to think it could wait. But I don't want it, not now." She breaks into sobs before me and I pull her into my chest. We stay there for a long time. She cries out all her frustration. Our bodies grow cold and stiff in the late fall air. I want to take her home and fix what I can, wash her, repair her hand, and warm her up. But I wait for her. I allow the time to grieve over the loss of another freedom.

"Are you scared?" she asks me.

"Yes," I say, "but then I think about all the things our future together will hold." Her eyes slide shut, perhaps picturing it herself.

"They're young still, maybe two of them, no more than three or four years old. The little girl, always has your hair and eyes in my mind. There is no more Capitol, our days are peaceful, like the end of our last lifetime, but we are surrounded by family. Prim gently rocks our newborn son. Sometimes, I walk our children to my parents bakery. They eat cookies by the hand full and you give me a classic scowl. You show them how to plant seeds in the earth and they play in the garden. There are holidays and birthdays and years of happiness. That's what I see. That's what I hold onto when I get too scared," I whisper in her ear. She nods and a single tear slips out from her eye lid.

I lift her to her feet and without trying to loosen the mud on her legs and hands, I cradle her in my arms. Her hand should be looked at, but we should also make ourselves more presentable if we don't want to worry Prim and Mrs. Everdeen. I wouldn't be able to give much of an explanation for her outburst. So instead, I carry her home, to our house.

Under the warm spray of warm water, she still didn't come back to me, not at first. Her face sat oddly blank and resigned. She stood under the flow of water very silent without movement. Her demeanor reminded me of how sometimes after a particularly long night of bad dreams she would sit in the tub for hours. She would stare at the water, lost to the world. Refusing to go back to bed with fatigue or venture forward with her day in the woods. I step in behind her and start to wash. I loosen the tangles of her hair and shampoo it strait again. I run the soap along her back and thighs. She turns towards me and I lather the bar, to work on her soiled hands and arms.

"I don't want to talk or think about it until we have to. Not with my mother or Prim or anyone. No matter how soon or how obvious...lets just pretend for a while," her expression is pleading, my heart breaks into a million pieces, "please Peeta." She whispers her last words so low I can barely hear them. We couldn't lie to the Capitol, so Katniss would delude herself instead. I focus on only my actions, because my mind and heart are momentarily numb. I scrub at the dirt on her arms. I gently run my hand over her cut palm and rinse off the mud under the spray. I notice the water at her back pushing her hair forward. I brush it back again so that I can see her sad eyes.

"Okay," is all I can say. She looks, if possible, more tormented at my agreement.

"I'm sorry. I always make thing so much harder on you," she says. My frozen heart thaws. I shake my head, but she tries to look away. I hold her in place.

"No, Katniss. I love you. I will do anything to make things easier on you. Make you happy," I say.

"You already do. I need to do a better job of showing you." She doesn't look sad anymore, she looks determined. I'm startled as she drops to her knees. I'm worry she has fallen, until her uninjured hand wraps around me.

"Katniss, no," I say quickly, "You don't have to prove anything to me." She only responds with a fleeting look up at me under her long eyelashes. She swallows me, still soft into her mouth. I react unwillingly. She only has to run her tongue along my length twice before I am hardening.

"Katniss," I gasp slightly. I pull her up to my level by her arms. I worry that I have been to rough with her, but she shows no signs of pain.

"I just want today back. I want you to have me like you would have this morning without all this talk," her determination is verging on anger now. I consider her words for less than a second, as my excitement stands out between us.

So suddenly, she yelps, I have us out of the tub and her back pressed against the bathroom floor. As I capture her lips I feel her hiss in protest at the cold tile. She feels all my lust, all my frustration as I push hard against her body. She returns my every kiss and touch in kind with her own passion. Our tongues fight each other in battle for dominance. Her calves wind around my legs, exposing her center to me. Her hands run over my bare body in an erratic patterns. She whines, as I nibble at her bottom lip. Her hands claw relentlessly into my lower back and I comply by thrusting into her willing body. It's not the slow love making of the night prior, it's filling both of our desperate wants. She meets me with every advance, letting off moans of satisfaction. Her head tips back, her eyebrows scrunch in concentration and her mouth falls slightly open. I want it to never end, but I can hold on. Not like this. Not when she is so warm and wet an free of inhibition. Not when It is so rough and full of lust. And especially not in my unpracticed sixteen year old body. I come hard and fast, long before she can. I almost collapses on her and she chuckles a little at my state. I lay my head on her cheek, the way she does on me and she brushes through my wet hair.

"That is how you can wake me up tomorrow," she teases. I silently agree with a smile tucked into her soft breast.

"Katniss? Peeta?" a loud woman's voice rings out from down stairs. Katniss raises her head and looks bewildered.

"Ella?" she wonders to the bathroom walls. I stifle a groan, in spite of the hardness of the floor, I have no wish to leave it.

"I'll go see," I tell her, hoping to wave off our visitor quickly and return to the day's new schedule of events.

I find some boxers and a t-shirt to head down stairs in. I find Ella waiting by the kitchen. When she catches sight of me, she tries to hide her laughter under her hand. I blush a little. Even clothed I must look like a mess, with wild half dry hair and a slap happy grin. It's no secret what was going on moments ago.

"Sorry," she says in an attempt at seriousness, "I knocked and knocked." I try to arrange my hair and face to something more modest.

"Is everything ok?" I ask, wondering what would be so urgent. Her face falls in an instant.

"The Mayor," she says, "he's at the Everdeen's and he says he needs to see Katniss right away."

There is a lot of scrambling to find more clothes for Katniss. Everything Cinna had brought for her had either been left in Katniss's old room or taken back to the Capitol. Finally after a little debate and a swear or two she decides on another pair of pajamas for the trip over. She didn't relish the idea of meeting her company without a bra on. However, it was a better alternative to putting back on the only article of clothing of her own she had in her new home, the wedding dress.

We find Mayor Undersee in the kitchen of the Everdeen's. The Mayor has been beaten severely for days, that much is clear. With horror, I am reminded of Johanna, being pulled from the basement of the Capitol. But Undersee looks stronger and alert, which makes me believe that it may not be quite as bad as it seems. either way, I am happy to see him alive again and even more glad Madge won't be caused more worry.

Mrs. Everdeen and Dr. Aurelius are attempting to check over his wounds, but even in the short time we stand there, he brushes them off at least half a dozen times. He has come hear to talk to us, he doesn't want their help. I wonder idly if it is because Dr. Aurelius is from the Capitol himself.

"I'm alright Mrs. Everdeen, really. Katniss I must speak with you. Can you take a walk?" he says sternly. Katniss nods and we follow the man out of the kitchen to the front yard and beyond. A car sits waiting for him and I can tell why immediately. His gait is uneven and he occasionally winces with pain, but he seems determined to be out of ear shot. We follow him until he stops beside a small clearing between Victor's Village and the newly constructed development houses. When he takes us in, I feel him consider my presents. I must receive the 'okay', because he makes no mention or dispute over my attendance.

"What happened?" Katniss asks him. I realize what she is trying to say. She wants to know what had brought him to her of all people. But he takes it more literally and laughs at what he presumes to be ignorance.

"I was sure a Victor, of all people, would understand what the Capitol is capable better than anyone," he says bitterly. This wins no favor with my wife.

"Yes, if you can imagine, I know much better than even you," she scowls in irritation. He considers her for a minute, weighing her words.

"Somehow I believe that. This is why I know you will understand," he tells us. We wait for more.

"You're a sensible girl and I figure you are not one to be swayed by heartfelt proclamations. So I'll save time and cut to the chase. The Capitol is not done punishing me, but it won't be me they come for again," he says. My heart skips a beat as I worry about who exactly will be on the receiving end of the Capitols rage.

"They have made it clear they will take Madge for the Quell," he says with disgust, "You and my daughter have been friends for long enough to know her abilities. She's a kind, gentle girl. She wouldn't make it through the first day." Katniss shakes her head slightly, her hand over her mouth. I stand close, ready for any reaction. She is the strongest person I know, but too much has already happened today.

"No, they can't," she whispers. This, I think is what Wells had meant by 'persuasion'. Maybe they hope he will cooperate, fearing what else they will do. But I know better. With the idea of a child looming over my own head, I know if anyone ever took one on my family members, I would react. I could never sit passively by and I have a feeling the Mayor is about to throw himself onto his own knife to save his daughter.

"They can and they will, but I can't allow it. It would kill both my wife and I. Madelyn is our lives, our future. Their is only one way. We have to marry her off and fast. They made the rule and they can't take it back," he says quickly. I can see it already, this is exactly what Wells was talking about. I can hear the echoing sound of the Capitol's plan back firing. But it won't be the Capitol or Wells that suffer. Suddenly I know with certainty, saving his daughter will lead to his own death. I collect my thoughts. I didn't think it would change his mind, but he should know what he was doing.

"And I need you Mrs. Mellark, because it can't be just any man. It has to look real. Our best option Is Gale Hawthorne," he says, before I can find my own words. Shock, fear, and confusion cross Katniss's face.

"What did he say? What did she say?" Katniss stutters. Could they have agreed to this? Would they? I wondered just how far their relationship had developed. When I had told Katniss about Wells' assumption about them, she had been surprised. Could their be something there that Wells saw and Katniss missed? I desperately hoped it to be true.

"Madelyn...will do as she is told," he says pompously. Katniss looks angry.

"She can decide for herself," Katniss sneers.

"No," he says, "she cannot because she never chooses herself over another. If I let her decide she will die." Katniss must believe his words because she is silent again for a long while.

"The Hawthorne boy, I don't know about yet. That is why I am here. I'm sure you can imagine all the ways I might push him into this. I do have one or two tools at my disposal, but my wife thought we should approach it differently, give him a chance to do the right thing," he says.

"By right you mean what you want?" Katniss retorts.

"No, by right, I mean what will save her life," he says and suddenly he sounds much weaker, "please will you talk to him with me." Maybe it's his faltering voice or the reality of his words, but Katniss nods curtly after another long pause. I am dressed decently, but I force Katniss back toward the house to put on her own clothes and have Mrs. Everdeen check her hand. I hold the Mayors gaze, silently asking for a private conversation. I don't mean to keep things from Katniss, but I don't feel the conversation I am about to have with Undersee will do her any good to hear. It will only confuse her decision and make it that much harder to talk with Gale.

"You know they won't like this," I say once Katniss is in the house.

"They made that pretty clear as well," he says bitterly.

"So you know what is waiting for you if you try to get her out of this?" I ask

"My wife and I hope they will spare our lives, but we have already decided what matters most. And that is our daughter," he says it with pride, like it is the greatest epiphany of his life. It very well may be. I can't find a crack in his resolve anywhere, even though he is speaking of their own deaths.

"You cannot repeat any of this Mr. Mellark!" he says urgently, "my daughter would never allow it then." I turn over his words. Hadn't I just swore to do the same thing, die for my family. How could I blame him?

"Okay," I say finally.

"I know more than either, you or they, realize. They may have been watching me for years, but I've been watching them back. When I'm gone and they give you your new promotion, pry up the floor boards at the back of my city building office. Maybe it will help you more than it did me. Maybe you won't have to stand where I am now. I was so young and stupid when it all started. Maybe an enlighten mind like yours can make more of a difference. Maybe you can save my Madelyn from them when I am long gone," he pats me on the shoulder with a sad smile. My throat is thick with emotion and I can't swallow to talk. I shake my head in agreement and hope it is enough. What can you say to a man who you have so greatly underestimated for years and then who offers up everything he has ever worked for and his own life for his child. There were not words for the love and strength that he showed. I would still try to save this brave man if I could, but I wonder sadly if he would be the first of many fathers or mother to lay down their lives for a new Panem.

Chapter 10

K POV

We drive to the Hawthorne's instead of walking, even though the trip is very short. The Mayor seems fatigued and in the quiet vehicle he slump slightly against the seat. We are alone. Peeta, hesitant at first, had agreed eventually to allow this trip on my own. It would be hard enough for Gale, without staring at my new husband. I assess the Mayor cautiously. I still want to be angry, but I falter. Madge is my friend as much, if not more, than Ella and in the square the day of the whipping, I had wished for Gale to save her. I looked for him in the crowd and willed him into marriage with a girl he didn't love. I did it to save a friend. How was this any different? Why shouldn't I save Madge? A lurking feeling clawed at my subconscious. Something having to do with Gale's own feeling toward each woman. I had never discussed with Gale his preferences in girls, but I had always assumed them to be similar to my own looks and personality. If that was true, then Gale would want to marry someone more like Ella. Madge was beautiful and wonderful herself, but we were as different as two friends could be. Guilt swirls in my stomach. Was I committing Gale to a lifetime of unhappiness by asking this of him? No, I think suddenly. Just until the end of the war. That is all the time we would need from him. Then the new government, understanding his past situation, would allow them to separate. Of course I could not tell him that now and I couldn't guarantee it, but it gave me hope.

"Mayor," I say as the car rolls to a stop, "I think you should let me do the talking." He agrees willingly and I wonder if, despite his threats, he is intimidated by Gale. It wouldn't surprise me. Gale was tall and strong and wasn't afraid to let his anger be known. I help the older man from the car and up to the porch. It's Sunday afternoon, which means the whole family will be here.

"Katniss? Mayor?" Mrs. Hawthorne says with surprise as she opens the door. She looks scared by his general appearance, but Hazelle is wiser than most and knows better than to ask about it.

"Hazelle, the Mayor and I need to speak to Gale. Is he home?" I try to sound polite and calm.

"Of course," she says, "please come in." She ushers us into the living room, where we startle Gale, who had been hunched over a thick book reading. His eyes take in the Mayor and his brows rise.

"Is Madge ok?" He asks abruptly. Despite the Mayors promise to be silent, he answers him.

"For now," he says ambiguously with a grave frown. Gale's face scrunches with displeasure and Hazelle raises a hand to her mouth in shock.

"Katniss, did you bring Prim with you?" Rory asks appearing behind his mother. Vick and Posy stand by his side with excited smile on their faces. They don't realize today is not a social visit. I want to laugh at their eagerness, but the situation needs to be diffused quickly. Hazelle knowingly ushers the cueing children back to their rooms. With a concerned expression she joins her son on the couch. The Mayor and I take the chairs facing them. I try to start several times but slip over my words.

"Just say it Catnip," Gale says with a hint of humor at my discomfort. I anger at his impatience and the words fly out more abrasive than I mean them to.

"Madge needs to be married soon or they'll reap her. You're the best bet," I say, thinking that I should have just let the Mayor speak first. The Hawthornes' only response for a long time is more shock. Gale meets my eyes and stares deep into them for the duration. I wonder what is going on in his mind and I thin about asking him several time. What did he think of Madge? Could he dislike her enough to watch her die on television, knowing he could have saved her? Was it worse for me, the object of his affection, to ask? Was there any chance they could be happy together, or at least pleasant toward each other? Was Gale selfless enough to do this for my friend?

"Could they really do that?" Hazelle wonders skeptically. I try to think of a way to gently tell her just how evil and manipulative the Capitol is.

"Yes," says Gale confidently, "and I'll do it." The Mayor is just as surprised s the rest of us, but he doesn't allow time for Gale to reconsider.

"You are doing my family a great service son. You are saving my daughter's life. I won't disregard that and I won't allow her to be a burden on you. I will of course give her allowance for all her personal needs." Gale looks angry and I already can predict why. Whether a real or fake wife, he doesn't like the idea of someone suggesting he can't take care of his family.

"I don't want your money," Gale says sternly. The Mayor looks just as annoyed.

"My daughter is use to a certain standard of living. I will not punish her by taking everything away," he throws back. Hazelle takes a deep breath and rests a hand on her sons shoulder as if to calm them both.

"Madge wouldn't be a burden. She is a wonderful girl. We don't want your money, but if you feel it best, then you can give it to her. My son earns his own way," she says with some pride. The Mayor smiles at this concession and plows on.

"I also assume you have no issue with her finishing her school and staying with her mother and I until that time?" He says, Gale nods tersely, probably not trusting his words.

"Good. Of course the first night she should stay here for appearances and then in a year or so, we'll have to see about a larger house for the two of you," Undersee explains. Gale seethes in silence

"If you think that is necessary," Hazelle says coldly.

"Excellent," says the Mayor, although his enthusiasm is deflated by his fatigue, "I hope tomorrow will work for you. It's best that we move soon. I have already set up the ceremony and toasting."

"Fine," says Gale with a slight sneer. They shake hands briefly, as if closing a business agreement. Mayor Undersee thanks Hazelle and he explains the plans for the next day. Before he leaves, he offers me a ride home. I decline and when Hazelle leaves the couch to show him out, I take her place next to Gale.

"What does Madge think about all this?" he asks me

"I don't really know. I haven't seen her yet, but the Mayor told me it wasn't an option for her," I tell him. He looks upset.

"I don't think it was anything personal," I say quickly, "I just mean, they are making her get married. She might have been the one to choose you." He still looks concerned and I wonder if this bit of information had slipped his mind before he said yes.

"It seems seem unfair. They should give her a choice," he says with conviction.

"Choice of what? To go into the games?" I ask

"Yes," he says simply.

"Gale, Madge didn't grow up like us, or even like Ella. It would be fighting a losing battle in the arena," I say with some shame.

"Is that what all her friends and family think of her? That she wouldn't stand a chance?" he says bewildered. I wonder if I am speaking with the same boy who talk about running into the woods to escape the reaping.

"You don't have to do it then Gale!" my voice rises, "we can just throw her in and see what happens, if you prefer that." He is mad again too.

"That's not what I meant. I just mean people should give her more credit. She's smart. That counts for something. Besides I already said I would marry her," Gale tells me annoyed. My curiosity gets the best of me.

"Why," I say, "why did you agree so quickly?" He shrugs and looks at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Marriage should mean something," he says after a while, "if it can't be for love, saving a good person seems like a worthwhile reason." I think of Gale in my past life. The war veteran working in government with a wife and new son. Surely he had loved her. There had to be someone out there for him.

"You don't think you'll find a girl to love," I say rhetorically. He shrugs again.

"I think sometimes it's a once in a lifetime kinda deal. Like with both our parents," he stares at me and I absorb the intention in his statement. Neither of our mothers had sot out the company of other men. Mrs. Everdeen and Mrs. Hawthorne had lost their true mates in the mines. They would never love that way again. Gale was telling me that his true love had also been lost. But in his case it was to another man. His easy acceptance of this marriage was based on that assumption. I hoped with all my heart that he was wrong. I believe that my two oldest friends deserved love. Even if Gale and Madge wouldn't find it together, maybe if the world would change enough for it to happen for them later.

On my way home, my anxiety of the days events overwhelms me. A series of sad pictures run through my tired mind. Poor Gale and Madge miserable together. My future child reaped by the Games. Peeta tied to a table in the basement of the new hospital. I feel like I can't breathe, the fear is too great. I close my eyes and think about what Peeta had said early. I try to see it all in my own mind. The little girl in my vision has his eyes and they play in the meadow. I picture Gale and Madge too. I pretend they are happy in my future world, that they have found love. Slowly, my racing heart calms and it all feels just a little more manageable.

Chapter 11

M POV

My mother runs the brush down over my strait blond hair in a rhythmic motion, smoothing out all imperfection. She hooks several strands around her fingers and pulls them to the back. Gently she places the silver comb with small blue sapphires at the back of my head to hold it in place.

"This is how I wore my hair the day I married your father," she tells me. She plants a kiss to the top of my head and then pats down the hair there. I watch my reflection in the large mirror. She has already coaxed make-up on me, but at least it's not the Capitol standard of a make over. My face is only covered with a hint of blue on my eyelids and pink at my cheeks and lips. The effect is subtle, not more drastic than the colors your face might take on after being out in the cold. I give an involuntary shudder. The weather, in just a day or two, has changed to the start of winter.

"Are you nervous," my mother asks. I feel like nerves is an inadequate description. I'm numb.

"I'm okay," I say weakly. There is no point in fighting this. My wedding is hours away and gale has consented. Just as I had last night when my father returned with the news, I have a million emotions run through me at once. Why had Gale agreed? Especially so easily?

"I don't think you know it yet, but Gale is the right kind of man for you Madelyn," she tells me, I try to understand her meaning. But I can't imagine how forcing someone to marry me could be right.

"He's many things you are not. That's a good thing in marriage. In time you'll grow to love one another," she says with an air of wisdom. I push off my immediate response of open defiance, this wasn't easy for her either. I was sure she wasn't ready to see me as a married woman, but her fear of the Games out weighed all else. Instead, I considered her logic. She was right about our difference. We were like night and day, but at times it was a good thing. Like all those hours pouring over math books. His temper would rise and I would wait it out with my patients. But was that really enough? Could you build a real marriage out of determination and waiting? No, of course not. Marriage was suppose to be out of love and Gale Hawthorne did not love Madelyn Undersee. Could I love Gale? My mother as if echoing my thoughts, speaks again.

"Madelyn, you do care for him, don't you? I can't bare to think of what I am doing to you if there is no hope," she sound morose. I want to confirm the dismal state of things, but I can't stand her sorrow as well as my own. There is no hope of having Gale return my feelings...It hits me hard.I have feeling for him.

"I do like him," I say in shock and wonder. How silly not to realize before. I liked Gale as much more than a friend. Everything made sense, my comfort in his arms, my willingness to spend so much time with him, and of course the constant butterflies I had in his presents. My mother beams at this proclamation, but I am terrified. Suddenly his open distaste for me was despairing. I thought over the times I had felt insulted or teased by him. Each one stung a little greater now. No wonder I had denied it so long.

"I think he cares for you as well," she says with a smile, "your father told me he said yes right away." She is almost gleeful at her own words. But I refuse to hope. Even as unbidden memories surface, like Katniss's wedding or the strawberries, I push them out of mind. He does not feel the same.

My mother pulls a dress from a garment bag. It's beautiful satin, even if it looks slightly dated.

"This was mine also. You can just wear your reaping dress if you want, but I though you might like this better," she says kindly. I imagine there were limited options on such short notice. I think of my comfortable light weight sun dress. The one Gale had seen already. The one he disliked.

"No, this will be perfect," I try to smile. It takes a few minutes to get into the garment. It's a a little loose in some places and too snug around my bust, but I don't complain. Otherwise I think it's perfect. Elegant but plain and just my style. My only real concern is how I will get it off. Perhaps my mother will have to help me with it later as well.

"Madelyn," she says quietly, "I'm going to pack this with some clothes for tomorrow that you can wear home." She holds in her hands another article of clothing I have never worn, but this item is brand new, something picked up in town. She is showing me a light blue nightgown made of a soft cotton that looks too low cut and too short to wear on it's own. My eyes widen and she reads all my unspoken questions.

"Your father thinks it best if you stay with the Hawthorne's tonight. This is what a married woman would wear," she says. I think I could faint. I have to sit suddenly to keep from falling. They expect me to wear that in front of Gale? They don't know their innocent daughter at all.

"Are you okay honey?" she says, coming over to pat my back, "It's a lot to take in right now and I'm worried I haven't done a good job of explaining things... you know about married couples. Would you like to talk now?" She sounds concerned, but I get the feeling my equally shy mother is no more willing to talk about sex than I. Would Gale expect that? What would I do, if he did? My nerves were building up again, I had to stop thinking about it if I was going to make it through the next few hours. I am saved from responding by the appearance of my father.

"Are you ready sweetheart?" he asks me. I nod, not trusting my words.

Chapter 12

G POV

I stare at the kids over an early dinner. They are not my children, I am not their father, but it feels like it sometimes. I was the second person to hold Posy after she was born and I took turns with my mother the first year getting up to feed her in the night. What else could I do with my father gone? Other boys in my same position wouldn't have worked as hard. They may have even deserted their family completely after a promotion like mine. For me there was only one answer. Only one thing to do, because I was raised by a man who would expect no less. My father was the best person I will ever know and when life throws me particularly difficult questions, I only need to think of him to solve them. My father, even in death, would never lead me wrong.

So the life changing question put before me, less than twenty-four hours ago, was easy to answer. My father, like I, would never let a girl like Madge down. He may not care for her town look or her status as Mayor's daughter. He had always preferred women with figures and hair like my mother. He didn't like the Capitol or District government. But my father would have seen right away what took me months to learn about Madelyn Undersee. She was smart, patient, and above all a good person. He would marry her if it meant saving her life. Having given up on true love and acknowledging all that Madge had done for my family just added to my reasoning.

As we eat Rory glares at me from across the table. I know what he wants, but I am still working out how to tell them. My mother had kept Rory and Vick from school today without a reason. They hadn't questioned at first, when they were allowed to sleep in, but once awake, washed and dressed in holiday formal wear, the questions began. My mother had patiently brushed each on off with a simple "your brother will tell you later". I appreciated her allowing me the chance to speak for myself, but part of me wished they had pried it out of her earlier. The right words were hard to come by. I wanted them to understand, even if they couldn't know everything. And I felt a lot of pressure to tell them the right way. This, I thought bitterly, would also be easier for another guy. Someone who hadn't helped raised the children in front of him. As if on cue, Rory speaks up.

"What's going on Gale?" he demands. I don't care for his tone, but my time is up. It's getting close to four and we are suppose to meet the Undersees at city hall soon. I push my plate away and stare back at him.

"Madge and I are getting married this afternoon," I say. Vick looks confused, Posy oblivious, and Rory is angry.

"Why?" he says with attitude. I am tiring by the day of his teenager mentality.

"Because I care about her and her name will be in the reaping ball too many times this year," I tell him. I had decided ahead of time that at least a partial truth was best. Vick nods in understanding, Posy picks up a pea with her fingers to examine, and Rory looks angrier.

"That's not why people get married," he scoffs, "you should love them. Shouldn't Madge marry someone who loves her instead?" I am already irritated, but this pushes me over the top. Rory just pointed out the biggest flaw in my decision, the thought that kept me up most the night. I feel irrationally protective of Madge. I can't reconcile the emotion in my head, but I am sure I can't let her go with another man. Perhaps the threat of losing a friend was getting to me. Or maybe it was the image of Bailey Mellark's roaming hands just nights ago. Either way, I know Madge deserves someone to love her and I can not give her that. My mind loops in circles trying to over come this obstacle and finally I come up with something like a solution. If she married someone else now they would be no more likely to love her. There was also no guarantee they would care for her as she should be. So I make my decision, If I couldn't love my future wife, I would at least be the best husband I could. That, I felt, was what my father would do. I would stand by her side, support her, and I would try to make her happy. It wasn't everything, but it was what I had to give. My new revelation had me defensive of my brother's statement and I decide that his particular questions do not deserve explanation. He was still a child and there were a lot of things he couldn't understand yet.

"People get married for many reasons. The reasons for this marriage are between Madge and me," I tell him sternly, hoping it will end the game of twenty questions.

"You mean because she's one of the best looking girls in Twelve and you want to have sex with her," he says smugly. I stand pounding a fist on the table with anger, my mother gasps and rounds on him, Vick sits in quiet shock, and Posy smiles.

"Sex?" Posy repeats. Vick laughs, my mother drags Rory from the room for a talk, and I stare in horror at a giggling Posy.

The talk with Rory ends up taking longer than anticipated. I wonder idly if I was that difficult at his age. I have a feeling I may have been and decide to cut him some slack as soon as my baby sister stops repeating the word 'sex'. When we finally are in the square I find Mayor Undersee on the steps of the city building. As we approach he exhales and breaks into a smile. Did he think I was going back on my word?

"I'm sorry about the wait, I had to talk to one of the boys," my mother explains. He welcomes us warmly, saying no apology is necessary and ushers us through the front doors.

I find Madge waiting with her mother. She is beautiful in her wedding gown. It's nothing like the brides maid dress, a flashy creation of the Capitol. This gown is a more traditional style with short sleeves, a curved neck line and a full satin skirt. It looks closer to something she would normally wear and I wonder if she is at least comforted by her attire. I seek her eyes, but she won't lift her head. I want to talk to her, ask if this is all okay with her, but it seems impossible surrounded by people.

A small group of guests will be joining us, including several city officials, the Everdeens, and the new Mr. and Mrs. Mellark. There is a round of greetings and Mayor Undersee insists on introducing me to all the individuals who work under him. When Katniss pulls me in for a brief hug, my resolve for my upcoming marriage only doubles. Katniss is your past, Madge is your future, I think to myself.

Mayor Undersee calls us to order. Madge and I step forward to meet in front of one of the District Officials and our guests fall back slightly. The ceremony is nothing like the elaborate show of the Mellark wedding. It's very quiet as we sign the necessary forms. I can see Madge's hand tremble as she writes her own signature. When she sets the pen down, I instinctively grab hold of her fingers, winding them in my own. The man begins speaking.

The words are common, probably spoken a thousand times, but I try to listen. My only distraction is the small hand in my own. I marvel at the feel of it, so light and soft. I hear my cue and repeat the necessary 'I do'. Madge's voice follows shortly after, in a soft whisper. We have no rings to exchange and it is all over even quicker than I had imagined.

"I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Gale Hawthorne. You may kiss the bride," announces the official. I get my first look at her expression, but all I can register is nerves. She makes no move forward, so I lean down and capture her lips in a short kiss. She is caught off guard and only has time to respond with the smallest pucker of her mouth. She blushes greatly as I pull away and her eyes turn down again.

There is a polite round of applause and our waiting guests descend on us. I still hold onto Madge's hand, hoping it will comfort or reassure her in some way. When my mother approaches, I am surprised that she grabs hold of my bride first. She pulls her into an awkward hug around my hand and whispers in her ear. Madge nods and smiles at her words, but I get no clues to what the exchange means. My mother grabs onto me next and I am pulled into an identical embrace.

"I'm so proud of you. Your father would love her," she whispers in my own ear. A sense of relief washes over me. If I had any doubts about whether or not I was doing the right thing, they were gone now. Katniss and Peeta step forward from the cue of waiting people after my family. Peeta offers me two items I had not noticed in his hands before, a cake box and a fresh loaf of bread. I release Madge's hand to except them and reply with a curt 'thank you'. Bitterness rises in me and I have a strong desire to turn both gifts down. I hate Peeta Mellark for his good manners and generous nature. I can only imagine what my expression must read. I catch Madge looking at me, almost sadly and I flinch internally. i was already making her unhappy. I try to rearrange my face. I quickly hand off the gifts to my brothers and take her hand again. I notice less pressure this time and I am sure my act was not convincing.

Now that the ceremony and greeting line was complete it was time for most of the attending guests to leave. The toasting would be at the Undersees home and it was traditional for only family to join. Mayor Undersee had three cars waiting to take us the short distance. I found it extravagant, but decided Madge might have difficulty walking in her gown, so I accepted a car to ourselves. As the door closed I took the opportunity I was waiting for.

"Madge, are you okay? I mean with all of this?" I stumble over my words. Once again I think how stupid they sound. Why would she be okay? She was being forced to get married or face the Games. Her own father had just been beaten by the Capitol. But I have little time to berate myself, because we have already arrived in front of the house. I eye her questioningly, hoping for some kind of answer.

"I'm fine," she smiles weakly. I cringed. She is being stoic. Another innately good feature of hers. I help her from the car and into the house.

All the supplies for a fire are set up in a large den. Someone even had the forethought to lay down a rug for Madge to kneel on. There is a lot of silence as I start the fire and we take turns toasting the bread. I hadn't ever been to this particular ceremony, but every one in Twelve knew it by heart. We are awkward as we feed each other the pieces. Madge blushes red once more, perhaps thinking of the second kiss we are about to share. I rest one hand on her cheek, to prepare her this time. Her light green eyes meet mine. They remind me fleetingly of the woods in early spring. My mouth closes over hers slowly, giving her time to respond. This kiss is longer and it feels warm, soft and sweet. Her small hands rest on my chest. I feel my own blush, remembering our audience and unwillingly pull away. Posy is the first to cheer and breaks free from my mother restraining hands to run to me. There is a pleasant round of laughter at the little girl that lightens the mood. Mrs. Undersee takes advantag of it to invite us to the dining room for cake.

We eat and make polite conversation. The Mayor and his wife inquire about my studying and my mother compliments their home. Each family flatters us, saying what a nice couple we make. Madge seldom looks up and never touches her slice of cake. Rory thankfully keeps all opinions to himself. When we are finished, Posy is barely remaining in her seat, from fatigue. I rise from my own chair and scoop her into my arms. My mother follows my cue.

"I apologize, but I think it's time for us to head home," she says, smoothing back a few of Posy's curls. The little girl yawns widely. The table occupants stand in unison.

"I'll call for two cars," Mayor Undersee says.

"No, I'd like to walk," Madge says pratically, "if it's okay with Gale." She looks to me for confirmation.

"It would be faster," I say.

"We'll see you tomorrow sweetheart," Mrs. Undersee says, handing her daughter a small overnight bag. She looks teary and clings to Madge for several minutes, before the rest of the farewells can be had. The mood set by Posy is gone, now that she is asleep. It is quiet on the way home. My mother lets us into the house and I think too late of carrying Madge over the threshold. But she looks as uncomfortable as I have ever seen her, so I decide it was probably best to let her walk in on her own.

It's reasonably late and my mind is exhausted from my poor sleep the night prior so I suggest bed. While my mother helps the boys and Posy to their rooms, Madge excuses herself to the bathroom. I change into a t shirt and long cotton pajama bottoms. I think of how uncomfortable I would make my new wife if it was summer and I was wearing only boxers to bed. I turn down the bed, but don't climb in. Should I wait for Madge? Maybe offer her one side over the other? Should I sleep on the couch? The minutes tick by, but Madge doesn't appear. I start to worry about what could be taking so long. My mother must be thinking the same thing because I meet her in the hall. She puts a finger to her lips, as warning and lightly taps on the door.

"Madge, honey, are you ok?" she says through the door.

"I...I'm...stuck in my dress..." Madge whispers back. I share a smile with my mother and return to my room. I settle on the edge of my bed, but only have to wait a few more minutes.

Finally, my wife appears in the doorway. She quickly steps inside and shuts the door, but comes no closer. Instead, she presses her back against the wall just beside the entry and flushes red. I take her in, all of her. Her long blonde hair is completely loose around her. Her ivory skin is bare all the way to mid thigh, along with her arms. The light weight, blue night gown exposes the tops of her large, smooth breasts and hugs her full hips. The make-up is washed clean and her eyes look up at me tentatively. I swallow hard and my heart races. At last, I see what all the boys at school were missing and what my younger brother already knew, my wife was the most attractive woman I had ever seen. And as my stomach tightened, I realized just how bad I wanted her physically. It seemed Madelyn Undersee and I would always have a very complicated relationship.

Her hesitance is clear. She makes no moves toward the bed. She pushes her hair forward covering some of the exposed cleavage and wraps her arms around her stomach. Suddenly I feel like a creep. I picture Bailey Mellark on the dance floor ogling her form. I shake myself for my current train of thought.

"What side of the bed do you want?" I sputter out. She answers in a shrug, but steps toward the right. I take her lead and make a show of getting in on the left side facing the window across from me. A moment later, I feel the gentle dip of the mattress and I pull up the covers over us. I tug the cord of the lamp beside me and throw us into darkness. I want to ask her again if she is okay, but my mind is still preoccupied with the image of her. Did all town girls wear that sort of thing to bed? Was I a horrible excuse for a man for the thoughts I was now having about a girl I didn't love? Minutes pass and I listen to her breathing wondering if she is asleep. Hoping she is comfortable. As I relax down into my pillow I feel a tremble behind me.

"Are you cold?" I ask, turning to look at her form. Her back is to me and I can visibly see her shaking under the covers.

"A little," she admits, quietly. I think carefully about the meaning and appropriateness of my next actions. I wasn't throwing myself at her I decide, she's cold. Slowly I shift towards her, tucking my arm behind the pillow she is using. I wind my free arm around her middle and gently press into her back. She waits for me to stop moving and then she softly rest her own arm on top of mine. Her breathing is quick and I can feel her heart beat, I wonder if I am making her nervous. Her hair smells like lavender and her skin is so soft, I want to pull her closer, but I hold back.

"Gale," she whispers into the dark room, "I'm so sorry for everything." Her guilt is like a revelation for me. I should have known she would find a way to blame herself.

"I don't want to ruin everything for you," she says very low. I think about her words. Of course she isn't ruining anything for me. The girl I had wanted to marry was gone for good. But I can't say this, nor can I tell her that she is completely wrong, because part of me worries I am wrecking her life.

"Shh," I hush, hoping it will calm her. Hoping she will understand the meaning behind my lack of answer.

* * *

Recently this story has taken several new plot twists. I have a plan and it is all going somewhere I promise. But someone asked me today if the plot line would ever end. The answer is yes, but I do not intend for it to be for a long time. So I have to ask: Is the story getting too long and evolved to follow? Do you want to see this story go up to 300,000 words or more? Or would you prefer for me to wrap it up sooner? Do you as the reader enjoy the recent twists in the plot? Is there something you do not like or find uninteresting that should be cut out? Please give me your feed back!

Thank you,

Jules

P.S. anyone interested in being my Beta? :)


	13. Section 13

**Book Two: Changing Paths**

**Sequel to Wishful Thinking. Katniss's deepest desire has come true and Peeta and her have been able to return to their past to save the people they love. They continue to rewrite their future as Snow and the Capitol loom over them. What will the torn alliance with Thirteen and an emanate war mean for their future? Will they still be able to cling onto each other and all that they hold dear? Written from four perspectives: P : Peeta, K : Katniss, M : Madge, and G : Gale.**

**Enjoy and Please Review!**

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

*******WARNING THIS CHAPTER GETS KIND OF DARK AND VIOLENT. IF YOU ARE NOT UP FOR IT PLEASE DO NOT READ*******

****************Please check the bottom of the page for updates (as of 5/30/12)**************

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Chapter 13

P POV

"That's not going to work on me, Peeta Mellark," she says as I pull the hot pan from the oven. The kitchen fills with the engrossing sent of fresh baked bread and asiago cheese. Katniss closes her eyes and breathes it in. She may deny it, but I am wearing her down. Which is a relief because I am quickly running out of ways to apologize for leaving her out on certain information.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey, these are for the bakery," I tease. She flashes a scowl in my direction and I can't help but laugh. The hot bun sears my fingers as I pluck it from the tray. She eyes me skeptically. Like the guilt-ridden husband I was, I broke.

"Just kidding," I say, slightly exasperated. She loosens a little. As I step toward her, I pull the bread apart in my hands, causing steam to rise between us. I slowly bring it to her lips for a bite. At the last minute, I pull it away and replace it with my own lips. At first she holds onto annoyance at my betrayal, but slowly she relaxes. Soon she is pressing back into me and my heart swells with triumph.

"Does this mean I am forgiven?" I say between kisses. She pulls back automatically.

"No, I'll let you off the hook when Madge's parents are out of danger," she says. I groan in frustration and stop myself from rolling my eyes. Katniss had been more than a little upset when I told her and Haymitch the details of my talks with both Wells and the Mayor. Haymitch, like I, thought the backlash on the Mayor would come any day. He also agreed that I had done the best I could to protect both the rebellion and as many innocent bystanders as possible.

"The Mayor made his own bed, kid. You can't save everyone," he had said. But my wife was harder to convince. Further, she had been pessimistic enough to believe they would somehow involve me, citing the references I had given Wells on behalf of Gale and Madge. I couldn't see how I had been wrong about Madge being a problem to Gale, but part of me still worried. More than a week had passed and still I felt like I was on pins and needles, waiting for the day they would take the Mayor again.

"I'm sorry," I tell Katniss for what must be the thousandth time.

"I know," she reassures me. She smirks and quickly grabs a cheese bun before dashing from the room. I catch up to her in the living room and tackle her onto the couch.

"I think I told you those were for the bakery, Mrs. Mellark," I say sternly.

"What? This roll?" she says innocently, taking a large bite from the middle. I bury my head in her neck to bite at a sensitive spot, while I flutter my fingers up and down the ticklish spots on her stomach. She thrashes wildly and we both roar in laughter. We are pulled from our reprieve by a sudden loud knock at the door. I raise first and she quickly resumes eating the roll as I answer the door.

"You're not getting anymore until I get what I want," I threaten, but it is greatly undermined by my own smile. When I pull open the front door, my heart drops.

"Good evening, Mr. Mellark," Mr. Wells appraises me, taking in my flour covered apron and my tangled hair, "I hope I caught you at a good time."

"Of course," I swallow hard, eyeing several armed Peacekeepers behind him.

"Excellent, because I think the time has come for your interview for Mayor," he says with a smirk. My eyes widen, but I try to hide any other expressions, shock or horror. I nod.

"Ah Mrs. Mellark, you are looking as lovely as ever this evening," Wells speaks over my shoulder. I turn to watch Katniss arrange her face into a convincing smile.

"Thank you Mr. Wells. Would you like to come in?" she replies.

"Actually, I need to borrow your husband for a few hours. But don't worry, I promise to return him," Wells smirks. She nods at him in understanding.

"Peeta, I'll find you some clean clothes to change into," she says, darting away up the stairs.

"I'll wait here for you," Wells offers. I hastily follow Katniss' lead. As I make it into the bedroom, she throws her arms around me, her hands clinging to a small pile of clothing.

"What are they going to do to the Mayor?" she whispers frantically.

"I don't know, but I have to go," I say regretfully. I try not to think about the horror I might see.

"I should be there. What if he takes it out on you?" she says fearfully. I can only imagine the frustration I would have if the situation were reversed.

"No," I say dismissively, "I'll be fine." She looks far from convinced. A thought hits me suddenly.

"What if Madge is there?" I say morosely.

"No," she says quickly, "she'll be at the Hawthornes', at least until dark." I eye the window past us critically. There wasn't much time. An idea strikes me.

"You have to keep her there," I say urgently. It's true, of course. Madge Undersee stumbling upon whatever was going to happen to her father would not help her cause, but I had a second motive. It was something, however small, that Katniss could do to keep her away from the night's events. I felt more guilt for deceiving her this way, but I could endure that shame and having to apologize more, later, if it meant keeping her safe. She answers with an unconvincing nod.

"Please," I say as I pull away from her and strip down.

"Okay," she says weakly, as I redress. I grab her face roughly between my palms and I kiss her hard, like it was all I had left, like it could be the last time.

"I love you," I tell her, before I am out the door and throwing myself among the enemy.

The daylight leaves the sky quickly and by the time we make it the short way to the Mayor's house we are in darkness. I say a silent thank you for whatever sent me the forethought to send Katniss to the Hawthornes'. However, any good feelings are dowsed immediately when I see what is waiting for us. More Peacekeeper's are placed outside the house with large torches and gas cans. It doesn't take long for me to add up the intention.

"Your new job waits inside," Mr. Wells motions me on. He looks gleeful, the look I find when he is at his most evil. I can only imagine what I will find in the Undersee's home. My stomach turns painfully.

The house is chaos. Tables stand on end, papers litter the floor, and shards of glass twinkle in the dim light. This must have been the job of the men waiting outside. They set the scene for our grand entrance.

Wells leads the way toward the back of the house. I follow slowly, feeling the pressure of a Peacekeeper at my back. His presence makes Wells' intentions clear. I should come willingly and comply with the Capitol. Any sign of weakness would be met with force by the man behind me.

As we near a door at the end of the long hall, I hear the sobs of a woman. My chest tightens; either Mrs. Undersee or Madge had been pulled in already. I try to mentally prepare myself and plaster a blank look to my face.

I barely cross the threshold and I see what is waiting for me, when Wells pulls a large pistol from his belt. Mrs. Undersee, sitting against one wall with her husband, shrieks wildly. Wells doesn't hesitate, and a single shot silences her. Mr. Undersee guides her limp body to the floor. He is beyond sound, with the greatness of his grief. My heart races in my chest. I feel my eyes prickle with tears and I think I might be sick. I try to focus. 'How had I watched things like this in the Games?' I think. To save Katniss, that's how. This is no different, I tell myself. Everything I did was for her. I still feel sick, but I collect myself in time for Wells to round on me.

"Your turn, Mellark. You want the job, you take the job," he tells me with a serious note. My mind wonders idly what he will do if I refuse. He hands the gun to me. I grab it on instinct. It's colder than I expect. I stare at it for a long while. Wells senses my hesitance and laughs loudly.

"You're a Victor for crying out loud. You've killed children, this is nothing," he scoffs. My anger flares at his words. I have never killed an unarmed, defenseless person. In the past my actions were always directly related to immediate survival. You couldn't compare the two.

"I'll let you have this one without an audience," he says, like he is being generous. I don't understand his words until he begins to usher the Peacekeepers back out of the room.

"Make it quick, Mellark," he sneers as he shuts the door. Alone in the room, I have no choice but to turn back to the Mayor. Blood covers him, making it hard to tell him apart from his partner beside him. He stares back at me with an unfathomable expression. My mind scrambles. How could I save this man? I search frantically for an exit in the windowless room. Suddenly, I see Undersee move. He pulls at his wife's hand and then his own, before gesturing me forward. I comply, sensing no bad intentions. The gun drops limply to my side. As I approach him, he grabs my free hand, pressing something painfully into it.

"Save my daughter and make them all pay," the Mayor's eyes are wild as he pulls away. I look down at my bloody hand and find two wedding bands. I feel him reach for me again, but there is no time to react. The gun is pulled from my hand and before I can even register fear for myself, the Mayor has ended his own life.

There is a rough pat on my shoulder and I am ushered back through the door to the front of the house. I feel numb, my senses blurred. I can smell the gasoline and I see the spark of the initial flame, but it all seems very far away. Another harder pat pulls me back to reality slightly.

"I'm impressed, Mellark," Wells tells me, " I honestly didn't think you had it in you." He turns to watch the house crumble in flames.

"You better get back to that new wife of yours. Just come see me at City Hall by the end of the week," he excuses me. I turn, grateful to leave this place.

"Mellark," he calls me back. Two Peacekeeper grab me from either side. Wells swings from far off, landing a rough, sharp blow to my face. The Peacekeepers fling me to the ground. I feel the gravel cut into my knees and arms. I have time to glance at Wells high shined shoes before one lands into my right ribs. I curl in pain.

"Maybe you should get to know your family friends a little better next time," he taunts. I see him take two short steps away.

"Go home," he orders over one shoulder.

Chapter 14

M POV

I spot Gale in the corner of the schoolyard, towering over the smaller children. I give an involuntary shudder in the cold November air and pull my heavy wool coat more securely around me. I slowly make my way to his side. A light smile plays at his lips at the sight of me and he briefly swoops in for a gentle kiss on my cheek. We are in public and others will be watching, possibly one of Wells' men, so I brush the affection off as show. However, I still can't fight my own smile or blush.

"You really don't have to come get me everyday," I tell him. On the morning after our wedding Gale had continued the tradition of walking me home. It was comforting to have him by my side, even if all threat had passed. But the chivalry had not ended there. The next afternoon, as I searched for Vick and Rory to head to the Hawthornes', Gale appeared. Gale would now walk me everywhere, it seemed.

"It's what a good husband would do," he says, "Besides I need to get out of the house more." A small group of girls push past me; I can hear part of their murmuring, but try to ignore it. The topic of the Undersee/Hawthorne wedding was a much-discussed topic these days, both in the school and town. People watched us with curiosity. How had the Mayor's daughter ended up with a boy from the Seam? The town merchants eyed me skeptically, perhaps wondering if I was pregnant. They were overly polite when I entered their shops for my mother and would ask prying questions about my new husband. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but much worse, the remaining girls at school openly dismissed the marriage. More than once, I had happened upon groups of them discussing the matter. The general consensus was always the same. The Mayor had paid the attractive older boy to marry quiet, shy Madge Undersee. I don't know how much Gale has heard of this talk, but he must have picked up more than me. I shake a little in embarrassment and anger. I feel Gale wind an arm around my shoulder, pulling me against his side.

"The boys will be out in a minute and we'll go," he says consolingly. He is right, and Rory and Vick pop up almost on cue. He releases me, but takes my hand for the walk home. Rory and Vick are quiet. I root around for a topic to break the silence.

"How's the chemistry going?" I ask Gale. He grimaces slightly.

"Let's just say math is quickly becoming my strong subject," he says bitterly.

"I could help, if you want," I offer.

"You know science, too?" he says in surprise.

"Not as well, but I could try to learn with you. Maybe we could fill in the blanks for each other," I smile.

"No, I mean thank you, but it just seems like a lot of unnecessary work for you," he says.

"I don't mind," I say genuinely.

"It's not your responsibility to make sure I pass all my tests," he says a little harshly. I recoil slightly at his intensity, but I am far too used to his stubbornness to be swayed.

"Aren't we supposed to be a team now?" I say boldly, "Isn't that what marriage is about?" Of course, I knew this wasn't a real marriage. Not one based on love or mutual want, anyways. But I refused to see Gale fail if I could do something to help, and learning a little chemistry seemed like a reasonable way to say 'thank you' to someone who saved your life. Gale shrugs uncomfortable, but doesn't answer, and I don't press anymore. The quiet follows us the rest of the way to the Hawthornes' and is only broken by the squeal of delight by Posy for all of her returning playmates.

Soon, we are settled into our usual spots on the couch and Gale pulls the math book forward. It's new material today and it takes a lot more explaining. I wade through each problem with him, patient when I have to repeat myself. Hours pass and we make little headway. On a particularly difficult equation, the telltale scrunching of his eyebrows alarms me to his frustration.

"Let's take a short break," I say quickly. Without further invitation, he leans back into the pillows of the couch with his palms pressed over his eyes. I take the opportunity to look at him without being noticed. His dark, straight hair is getting long. It looks soft and I wonder what it would feel like on my hands. His arms tense in his frustration and I can see the muscles of his forearms stand out sharply. I remember the feel of those arms, wrapped around me the night of the wedding. I blush at the memory and how I had missed him the next night, alone in my old bed. But it was a silly thing to think about when I was sure the same feelings were not shared.

"Okay," he says finally, hands still over his face, "will you explain it again?" I take my prompt and turn back to the eraser streaked page.

"X is equal to negative B, plus or minus the square roo...," I trail off as an unbidden feeling washes over me. My stomach clutches painfully and I feel faintly sick. My heart races and I struggle to catch my breath as anxiety consumes me.

"Madge," Gale says, voice full of concern, "are you okay?" When I don't answer, he rotates my shoulders to face him.

"Hey," he says softly, "what's wrong?" His eyebrows are arched high with confusion and he places a hand on my cheek, stroking my temple with his thumb.

"I don't know," I say, bewildered. I can't explain the feeling, it's something I can't describe and I have only felt it once before...I leap to my feet.

"I have to go home," I say suddenly. Something is wrong, very wrong.

"I'll walk you," he says in a rush, but I barely hear him, because I am already halfway to the door.

"Madge, your coat," he says, with as much bewilderment as my voice. I round quickly and he holds it out for me to put on. I fasten the buttons quickly. I barely register the urgent knock at the door. I turn towards the hallway and Katniss catches me off guard as we slam into one another. I struggle for a moment to pass her, but she pushes me against the wall until I stop to listen.

"No," she says firmly, "we have to wait here." I shake my head urgently. She can't understand what could be happening right now.

"Please, Madge, you have to stay here with Gale until Peeta gets back," she urges me.

"I have to get home," I cry suddenly, tears welling in my eyes. I feel Gale at my side. He and Katniss share a look.

"Peeta will help if he can, but it's not safe for her," she tells him, before adding, "Mr. Wells had Peacekeepers with him." I slump to the floor in defeat. My throat and eyes go completely dry. I am lost in the feeling of nothingness. Katniss kneels in front of me and fleetingly tries to speak words of comfort, but this has never been my friend's forte. She rises after a minute or two and I can see her pace in front of me.

"I'm sorry," she says weakly, several times. I don't know how long I sit, unfeeling and cut off in shock, but the next thing I sense is Gale's strong arms picking me up off the floor and carrying me back to the couch. Slowly, he unbuttons my jacket and eases it off me, before sitting beside me again. He does not speak. There is conversation around me but all my focus is on the coming news. Every piece of my composure is set waiting on Peeta Mellark's promised arrival and the announcement that will undoubtedly change my life. Mrs. Hawthorne comes some time later and sets a hot bowl of soup before me and then wraps a blanket around my shoulders. I stare in the bowl until the steam evaporates and the broth turns cold.

When the second knock comes to the door, I launch myself up with surprising speed and make it there before the rest of the house. Peeta stands, dirty and bloody, on the porch. He is breathing heavy from exhaustion and probably pain. My eyes seek his own and my heart stops as I stare into his bruised face.

"I'm so sorry, Madge. Your parents are gone," he tells me in a constricted voice. His shaky hand reaches out to me and I accept the rings he gives me. The stones on my mother's wedding band are stained in red. My mind is oddly light again. I hear the scramble of people behind me and feel the door close as Peeta is brought into the house, but I only fix my gaze determinately on my palm. 'If I don't leave this moment, if I refuse to accept it, it won't be real,' I think in vain.

"Madge, honey," Mrs. Hawthorne whispers to me, "come sit down with us." I shake my head lightly in refusal. She brushes some hair back from my face and stoops down to find my eyes.

"Madelyn, sweetheart?" she says. My chest aches. She sounds like my mother. Unwillingly, I look up from my hand. I find her tortured, yet sympathetic expression. Too late, I realize my error. I have allowed myself to move forward and by doing so, it all has to be real now. Tears flow from my eyes before I can stop them and Mrs. Hawthorne pulls me into her arms. She strokes my hair and hums lightly, like I have seen her do with Posy dozens of times.

I allow myself tears, but nothing more. Her kindness has always been too great, and she has had to experience the much greater loss of a husband. I let her steer me into the living room and back to the couch, beside Gale. His expression is set, almost angry. If I were in another state, I would try to figure it out more fully. Instead, I sit very still and straight in my seat, trying to listen to the talk around me and attempting to nod at the correct places. They unroll the news as a list of my losses. My parents are dead, the house is gone, and I have nothing left to my name. I feel very small and alone, even though I am in a full room. There is a brief discussion over where I should stay. Katniss offers her new home with Peeta, or with her mother. I don't answer. I don't really belong anywhere.

"No," says Mrs. Hawthorne, "she's our family now. When she is feeling better, she can decide another arrangement, if she wishes." There is a general round of agreement and Gale, at my side, closes a hand around mine. I feel the rings press into both of our palms, but I don't pull away.

Katniss and Peeta leave soon, citing his need for medical attention. Before they go, Katniss wraps me in an uncharacteristically strong hug; my arms stay limp at my side. I don't know what time it is, but Mrs. Hawthorne takes me to the bathroom and helps me change into one of her own nightgowns. She gently removes the soiled rings from my hand and rinses them under the tap. She places them on the bedside table and then helps me into Gale's bed, tucking the blankets up around me. She smoothes my hair and kisses my forehead.

"We're all here if you need anything," she tells me as she leaves the room and shuts off the light. I am grateful for her help and the privacy she has given me. I curl onto my side and let more tears come. I try to picture my life now, what is left for me. It's too much to sort out, a problem too difficult to solve. I suddenly feel very tired. All I want to do is sleep and close out the world, but my mind won't allow it. So I stare at the dark wall in front of me until the door opens again. Silently, someone crosses the room and, when the mattress shifts, I know it must be Gale. He is still and quiet for a long time and I assume he has fallen asleep. Poor Gale and the Hawthornes, stuck with the dead Mayor's daughter. What a mess I had pulled them all into. An unwelcome sob breaks from my lips. I clamp my hand over my mouth, but more follow. Gale turns quickly and reaches for me. I feel my weak composure shatter and I shake violently.

"I'm here," Gale says in a soothing whisper. I roll into his waiting arms and bury my face in the soft fabric of his t-shirt. I convulse in sobs of anguish and he strokes my head, arms, and back in an alternating pattern. I hate myself for it, but I take this comfort from him. I wrap my own arms around his neck and lace my fingers in his hair. It's softer than I imagined. This thought, of my silly desire from earlier in the day, when my life was whole, only highlights the emptiness. My sobs turn to hysterics. I hear Posy cry from the next room, my sounds probably waking her, but I can't contain them. Gale pulls me tighter.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he says. I pull harder against his neck, bringing us almost level with one another. He continues his strokes more urgently and peppers my hair and forehead with kisses. The change in sensation breaks through to me and I try to catch my breath. I quiet slightly. I feel so warm in his arms that it's hard to remember I have nothing left in this world.

"Tell me what to do," he says desperately. His lips move to my closed eyelids, my cheeks, and the curve of my bare shoulder. I swallow a sob and silent tears run down to the pillow under me. He pulls away enough to see me. I can just make him out in the dark. His face is a mask of desperation.

"Please, let me help you," he says. I watch his mouth move and a very different series of feelings flutters in me for just a moment. Nervousness, anticipation, and want linger before the anguish rushes back in. I can't bare the hurt a minute longer. I seek the only comfort and distraction available. Recklessly, I press my trembling lips to his. He complies earnestly. The kiss is firm and wet, nothing like I have ever had before. Not like my single kiss with Bailey or the half a dozen small pecks from Gale himself. This kiss is the product of two willing participants with mutual desires.

I lose control of all rational thought and my body moves of its own accord. I press my hands hard against his back. He pulls himself flush to my frame. My breasts press into his chest, creating a gentle friction there. My lips part in a gasp at the sudden sensation. His soft tongue caresses my bottom lip and then runs along my own wet tongue. One of his hands runs up into my loose hair, the other on my lower back, pressing his fingers roughly to my skin.

I am unpracticed and under-experienced for a girl my age and I fleetingly hope I am doing everything the right way. I follow his lead, letting him set the rhythm, while I cling to him. His tongue thrusts into my mouth again and again, bringing with it the subtle taste of mint. I try to move my lips to match him. One of my hands releases his back and finds his face. I run my fingers over the stubble and to the skin just behind his ear. His hand moves lower to the roundness of my hip and he groans slightly.

Suddenly, he pushes me back and he rolls over me. His muscular body encompasses my small build and he presses me down into the mattress. The sensation is warm, welcomed, and unnerving at the same time. His lips never leave mine, but come faster now. He supports himself on one elbow and I feel his free hand rub my right thigh. Other new feelings burst forth. Heat and want spread from my stomach and down lower. I feel Gale's groin, hard between us. Fear rises in me. Where is this going? What will I do? I feel young and scared and unprepared. I never had a real conversation about sex with my mother. And now I never would. Tears roll form my eyes again and I sob into his mouth. Instantaneously he pulls back, looking horrified.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I just got carried away," he says remorsefully. I bring my hands to cover my face with embarrassment and grief.

"Madge, did I hurt you?" he asks with concern. I shake my head, but I realize his worries require more of an answer. I try to organize my thought and feelings, but it all comes out jumbled anyway.

"No, it was me," I say through my tears, "I wanted to forget, but I can't. I have no one..." He barely lets me finish before he crushes me back to his chest.

"I'm here..." he repeats. He starts to run his fingers over my hair again. We lay together like that the rest of the night. At some point I fall asleep, with him still comforting me. I don't think either of us gets much rest, but as he promised, he is there...

Chapter 15

K POV

I hear the words Peeta speaks to Madge and my heart aches for my friend, but there is also solace at the site of him. Though battered and bloody, he is here with me. I feel any anger I harbored over the last week dissipate and I only have relief that Peeta has been able to return to me. He hands Madge something and then wobbles slightly on the doorstep. Mrs. Hawthorne guides him in and closes the door before turning to Madge. She waves us away to the living room. Once Peeta is in my grasp, I settle him into a large armchair and try to assess his injuries.

"What the hell happened Mellark?" Gale spits out. I had barely noticed him until that point. He paces a little in front of the couch, arms crossed. Peeta gazes back at him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. I can't blame him; Even Peeta was bound to tire of Gale's surely attitude eventually. But he collects himself and is able to give Gale and explanation.

"Wells and the Capitol weren't done punishing the Mayor. Wells made me go with them tonight...Mr. and Mrs. Undersee are dead..." Peeta trails off. Gale sits down on the couch, his expression etched with surprise. We wait in quiet and Hazelle helps Madge to the seat beside her son. She takes the spot on Madge's other side. Tears run down Madge's face, but she does not speak. I fight the tears welling in my own eyes. I could honestly say I knew the exact feelings she held at that moment. It was only something you could truly appreciate if you yourself had lost a parent. I suddenly felt guilty, I at least still had a mother. I also had Prim and Peeta. Who did Madge have now?

"The house and everything in it is gone," Peeta announces grimly, "They burnt it down like the Hob. I'm starting to wonder if that's Wells' thing...fire I mean." Peeta's words are full of disgust. I give up on trying to look him over and hang on his every word.

"I don't know what they will tell everyone in the District. Maybe they will use him as example or maybe it will be just an accident. I would be prepared for either, if I were you. I'm sorry I don't know more," Peeta looks grief stricken again and I clutch his dirty hands for support.

"What happened to you?" Gale demands suspiciously.

"I told Wells a while back that he could trust the Undersees, this was my punishment for being wrong," he lies cooly. I wonder why he doesn't tell Gale the truth. Peeta never vowed for Mr. and Mrs. Undersee, only Gale and Madge. Maybe he didn't want to say so now, not with Madge already so upset. Or else he didn't want Gale to doubt marrying Madge. It all seemed senseless now. The Capitol had gotten what it wanted, the Mayor out of the way. Madge and Gale didn't have to pretend anymore, the Undersees had paid with their lives instead of their daughter's.

Madge nods in understanding, although I don't think she has heard any of our talk. What would happen to my friend? The Mayor's daughter from the large house had once owned more clothes and books than I, even in my Victor's home. She would be homeless now. I had to do something.

"Madge, you can come stay with Peeta and I, or my mother and Prim, however long you want," I promise her.

"No," says Hazelle, speaking for the first time, "she's our family now. When she is feeling better, she can decide another arrangement, if she wishes." My eyes travel to Gale, watching for his reaction. His own eyes are already fixed on Madge. He reaches forward and gently takes her hand. He nods his head in his mother's direction. I am taken aback at the suddenness of his commitment. Could Gale see this as a real marriage? Had he changed his feelings toward Madge? Maybe it was just that Gale also knew what she was feeling. We were all tied together by our losses. Peeta agrees with them at my side and I watch him wince as he shifts in his seat.

"He may need to see your mother, Katniss," Hazelle says, concerned. I am torn between Peeta and Madge. But Madge's hand sits securely in Gale's and Hazelle hovers protectively over her. Madge is in good company. If I was going to trust anyone, it would be people as good as the Hawthornes. In parting, I don't have words to console my friend. So, instead, I wrap her in a hug and try to will as much meaning and comfort into it as I can.

"You kids get into a lot more trouble than we do in the Capitol," Dr. Aurelius chuckles, after pronouncing Peeta would not need anything other than a shower, ice, and rest, to cure his bruised face and rib. I, on the other, did not find the situation so humorous, or to be taken so lightly. I had arrived at my mother's house, a bloody and injured Peeta in toe, with no explanation for his condition. Apparently, Dr. Aurelius has given up on questions and now takes the brutality of the District in stride. My mother, sensing my distress and unwillingness to downplay Peeta's condition, chimes in.

"Why don't you two stay here tonight, just in case. I have some sleep syrup for you, but if you wake in pain you can come and get me. Katniss' old room has clean sheets on the bed and towels in the bathroom," she smiles kindly at my husband.

"Thank you, Mrs. Everdeen," Peeta says, getting to his feet. He looks physically and mentally exhausted and I hasten to his side for support. My mother brings me a large bottle of the medicine. We make our way into my old room and the attached bathroom. I run the water to warm and strip Peeta down.

"I feel like you're always having to take care of me," he grimaces.

"I want to take care of you, especially if it's all I get to do," I protest. I pull his undershirt off him and start working on his belt. He's forehead comes to rest on mine.

"They wanted me to shoot the Mayor," he says in barely a whisper. Tears swim in his large blue eyes.

"What did you do?" I felt sick thinking about it and even worse for asking. He shakes his head slightly with a tortured expression on his face.

"Undersee took the gun himself and..." his words fall off. Relief washes over me and I sigh a little out loud. The thought of the Mayor killing himself was horrible, but Peeta did not need more blood on his hands from the Capitol. They had already given him enough to keep him awake at night.

"I don't know what I would have done. I don't think I could have and Wells and his men were right there," he tells me. I turn over his words and the possible consequences. If I was honest with myself, what did I want from Peeta? What did I expect him to do in those situations? Refusing to kill the Mayor would not have saved Madge's parents. It would have only brought on more punishment for my husband. All he had done to incur his current injuries was backing the character of Gale and Madge. Did I want him to be the better man, the righteous Peeta of his younger days, fighting for the cause and me? No, I didn't. Of course I wanted to put an end to the Capitol, but I wanted him safe as much as possible. It was selfish, but also very true.

"You have to always do whatever will bring you back to me," I say firmly. His eyes widen and he suddenly looks angry.

"And what if they ask too much of me, like today. What parts of me will come back to you? What will you think of the person they turn me into, Katniss?" he asks. I shake my head and lean in to whisper in his ear.

"They tried before, but they can never take you from me, physically or mentally. I won't allow it. I'll kill Snow and Wells, myself, before that happens," I say adamantly. He chuckles a little and winces in pain at the movement.

"You know what's scary to me? That I could see you trying exactly that," he shakes his head at the thought.

"Well no one messes with the Mellarks or the Everdeens," I say. He smiles, but I can see his fatigue growing. I hurry him into the shower and work on pulling down the covers of the bed. Sooner than I expect, he crawls in beside me in only boxers. A large red mark stands out on the side of his abdomen. I can almost make out a shoe print. I scowl at the thought of Wells, but I focus on the task at hand: making Peeta comfortable. I roll the covers back over him and adjust the pillow under his sore head. I smooth back his wild curls and kiss him several times with soft pecks.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" he says weakly, but I can hear the desperation and need in his request.

"I could never stay mad at a man as wonderful and good as you. I love you," I say sincerely.

"Show me," he says with a different kind of need. I immediately think of a dozen reasons it would be inappropriate to make love to my husband now. The top of the list was the recent lose of the mayor and his wife, followed by Peeta's current injuries. Farther down my hesitancies was the fact we were currently within earshot of my mother. But in the same light, we were alive and still had the ones we loved most. I was so overwhelmingly grateful for my new life. Suddenly, I felt my own want consume me, fueled by our safety of this moment in comparison to the unknown future.

I move away and discard my clothing quickly. Peeta never takes his eyes off me. I return to the bed and gently hold my naked form over him. I support my weight off his injuries with my arms and legs on either side of him. He pushes my hair behind my ears and grabs my face.

"Tell me you love me again," he says.

"I love you, Peeta," I answer clearly. His eyes darken a little and he pulls me into a deep kiss. I try to be mindful of his bruised face, but he seems not to care. He moves his lips against mine slowly but with great pressure. I keep my body still, trying hard not to brush his ribs, but his hands roam freely over me. He massages the muscles at my neck and shoulders. He grazes his fingers along my collarbone and down to my breasts. He runs the palm of each hand across my taut nipples and I moan slightly in his mouth. His hands move swiftly down to grab my hips hard. He pushes me down towards his groin, where he is more than ready for me. My bottom runs along him and he gasps.

"Katniss," he calls out quietly. I smile, but quickly place a finger over his lips.

"Shhh," I tell him, "we don't want an audience." he smiles back, but urges me down on him. I pull his length free from his boxers and run my hand along it several times in teasing. He throws his head back and I can see him bite his lip. He tries to bring his hands back to guide me, but I swat them away. He has probably already done more activity than he should. I will do the rest tonight. He understands my meaning and relaxes into the pillows. I position myself to straddle him and place him at my entrance. I am careful with each movement, watching for discomfort or pain in him, but I find none. Tentatively, I lower myself and we both sigh at the feeling of wholeness. I ride him up and down slowly, building friction between us. We both clamp down hard on any sounds that attempt to leave us and the only noise is the light creak of the mattress frame with each of my rocks. I laugh internally, thinking that this is the quietest we have ever made love. Even our true first time, when I was so shy about every touch, we were more vocal than this.

Void of words, we use our eyes. I watch him, sometimes catching his eyes on me, other times his expression focused on the sensation. I lose myself in my actions and the sight of him under me. I can see the bulge and twitch of every muscle. I revel in the softness of his skin on mine. How had I missed just how perfect this man was in my original youth? I feel warmth spread over me quickly and I convulse around him very suddenly. I whimper unwillingly at the intensity of it and he comes as well.

I collapse off of him and roll free of his injuries. I can hear him pant into the silence of the room. I collect my own breath and rise to find pajamas in a nearby draw, until I remember they have all been moved to the new house. I settle for redressing. Peeta's eyes are closed when I return to his side, but I still grab the sleep syrup. I want to make sure he rests tonight. I pour him a generous portion into a tablespoon and hold it out to him.

"Peeta," I rub his shoulder to wake him, "take this." He frowns a little.

"You're not going to feed me this and then run off to try and get yourself killed, are you?" he asks.

"No," I say with a laugh, "I've learned my lesson, time and again, about trying to keep things from you." He grabs my hand and stares deep into my eyes before speaking again.

"So have I. I promise I won't do it again," he says sincerely. I nod in understanding. Being Peeta, as good of a person as he was, he would always feel responsible for the Undersees. I wouldn't add to his pain with more anger at him and I would do my best to get him to forgive himself. He takes the medicine and lies back down. I twist a finger in his hair until he drops off to sleep. I lay beside him for a while, wide awake, thinking about the day's events. This world was very different from the one I had left, but the evils were the same. It was my wish to save the ones I loved most, but by doing so, how many senseless deaths would I have to witness again? My stomach clenched painfully. The Undersees would not be the last by a long stretch.

I rose, unable to be still any longer with only my thoughts. I decide to return the medicine to the kitchen. The house is quiet now and I make it down stairs and back up without interruption. On the landing, I notice a light shining from under Prim's bedroom door. It's late and she has school in the morning. I shouldn't disturb her. I should just pop in to switch off the light and send her to bed, but I suddenly crave her company. When I lightly tap at the door, she welcomes me in. She is in the middle of her single bed, surrounded by books.

"Come sit with me," she says warmly, with a smile. I am grateful and follow her instruction. As soon as I sit, she wraps her arms around me.

"Mom told me about Peeta. Is he doing okay?" she says softly. I nod.

"I can check on him," she offers, sitting back. I think suddenly of the half-dressed state I left my husband in and shake my head quickly.

"He's okay," I reassure her, "he's resting now."

"Katniss," she whispers, "what happened?" She looks so young and so worried, that I want to keep it from her. But then I remember why I sought her out to begin with. Prim was always older and wiser than her age. I may have been the breadwinner, but she was the heart of our home. Without her, I had been so lost. Having her back was such a miracle in itself that I would never go without her love or advice again. I felt bad for putting any stress on her, but that was another mistake of my former life. I had not trusted her or let her help me during the war. And in return, she had felt the need to seek out opportunities to shine on her own. At least, that's what I always blamed for her ending up in the Capitol at the worst time possible.

"The Mayor and his wife are dead," I whisper back. Her small hands rise to cover her mouth in surprise.

"Does Madge know? Is she alright?" Prim says, tears filling her eyes.

"She knows. She's with the Hawthornes tonight," I say.

"Why?" Prim asks. I understand what she is wondering without further explanation. It all pours out of me. I tell her about the Mayor's abduction and return. I explain about the suddenness of Gale and Madge's wedding. And I even bring up the threat of the reaping. Prim is patient and listens without interruption. As I speak, I feel the weight of my own stress lift away. I talk only in whispers but, if I am honest, I don't spare worry about who is listening. I don't care at this moment. Finally, I run out of words completely. Prim is silent for a long time. She stares into space, as if processing it all.

"It's horrible, but I can understand their decision," she concludes.

"The Capitol?" I say in shock.

"No, of course not. I mean I understand the Undersee's choice to save their daughter. I think I would do the same. If I had to die, I would want it to mean something. And if I could make a difference or save someone I loved, I would do it," she proclaims. Tears well in my eyes. I am speechless. I can only think of losing her again. She catches my expression, probably that of overwhelming loss.

"Oh Katniss, don't worry so much," she smiles gently and pats one of my cheeks, "I'm not going anywhere. Besides you would never allow me to do something so courageous. You've already volunteered for the Game's in my place, you'd probably jump in front of a bullet, too." No, it wasn't a bullet, I think bitterly, it was a bomb and I couldn't save you.

"Katniss, are you alright?" she says, getting more worried, as I continue not to answer. I shake myself from the worst moments of my past and look around for a distraction. My eyes fall on her books before us. There is a very graphic picture of a woman's anatomy before us. I blush and cringe simultaneously.

"What are you reading?" I say in a different kind of horror. She laughs instantly, effectively distracted from my slip in keeping face.

"Oh Katniss, you are a married woman now and you can't even look at a book about child birth book without blushing. What are you going to do when you have—" Prim tries to say.

"No," I say loudly "that topic is off limits." Prim huffs loudly in disappointment. I eye her skeptically.

"Is that why you are reading all this? Because you think I am having a baby?" I ask her. The truth is that I will be having a baby, a lot sooner than even I want, but I am still in blissful denial and not even Prim's eagerness can take that away.

"Well, yes and no. It was one of the options for training in the hospital," she tells me. I stare at her questioningly.

"They anticipate the biggest departments will be emergency medicine and labor and delivery. They had us choose which one to train for at the beginning and I hoped I would be able to help you. So I picked labor and delivery," she explains. I pick at her words, reading a lot more into them than she does. The labor and delivery part I could understand. They had taken away birth control, after all, but what I wondered about was the need for emergency medicine. What was the Capitol anticipating that would cause so many injuries? A war, I decided, that is what they were training us for. Prim never misses a thing, but she misreads me this time.

"Don't worry, when you do have a baby it will be wonderful, you'll see. A baby from you and Peeta will be perfect and beautiful. And I promise I will be the best aunt. You can drop them off anytime and I will do practically all the work," Prim swears. I scowl at her, but she just beams back. I feel like drawing up a contract on her words, something that will bind her to my future offspring so that I can fully commit myself to the elimination of Coin and Snow. I also want to tell her that she can be the one to carry a baby nine months and then perform the tasks in the book she is reading, but telling any of this to Prim wouldn't help me. First of all, no one could take my fate and second, I already knew she would love the child and care for it. I had a surge of hope, thinking how it might even keep her away from danger if she was stuck babysitting. It was a silly thought, but maybe it could work. She had already excluded herself from some danger by choosing this course of study over the other.

"Fine," I say unwillingly, "IF I have a baby, you are official nanny. Promise?" I say. Prim squeals in delight and throws her arms around me.

"Katniss, you are the best sister!" I hold onto her gratefully, hoping with all my heart I would never lose her again.

"I love you, little duck," I say in a constricted voice.

Chapter 16

G POV

When I wake in the morning, I can sense her absence even before I open my eyes. The cold bed feels a lot less comfortable without her. I sit up too fast, in search of her and my vision blurs slightly. However, I need not look far. Madge is sitting in the small desk chair by the window. Her legs are pulled up protectively against her body and her face is turned to watch the light snowflakes flicker past. I kick myself internally for sleeping so long and forcing her to be alone. I had tried, in vain, during the night to stay awake and watch her. It was the least I could do, but I must have succumbed to sleep in the late hours of the morning, allowing her to slip away.

She makes no sign that she notices me rise and cross the room, but she doesn't startle when I place a hand on her shoulder either. I worry for a moment about touching her again. Last night had escalated quickly, and I still felt horrible for pushing her so far. Despite her saying it was her fault, I knew better. Her purity had become abundantly clear with her gentleness, hesitance, and willingness to let me lead completely. The kisses and touches we shared were each a first for her and she never would have taken it to that level without me pressing. Her innocence, it turns out, was a very big problem for me. Not because I didn't enjoy myself or felt her skills were lacking. In truth, it made me want her that much more. Madge was a beautiful girl and, for whatever reason, she had never been touched by another man. I was ashamed to admit it, but part of me wanted to be the only man to have her.

I feel her hand come to rest over mine and I sigh in relief. Whatever hormone driven actions of the night had occurred, she had not held it against me. Closer now, I can see the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness of her already fair skin.

"Do you need more sleep?" I ask softly.

"No," she shakes her head slightly, "I'm not tired anymore." She must be lying but I don't press it.

"Something to eat then," I say. I don't let her refuse this command. After my father died, it was easy to think about giving up, but he would have never wanted that for me, or the younger children. So I got up everyday and did my best until things got easier and we found happiness again. This was my plan for Madge. She and I were very different people and I would never downplay the loss of her parents, but I felt they would also want her to go on. I take her hand in mine and lead her out of the room, toward the kitchen table. My mother is there, already spooning out portions of oatmeal to the kids. I pull a chair out for Madge and sit beside her. My mother places a bowl in front of her and touches her face for a moment. The boys quietly eat and a very sleepy Posy across the table takes us in.

"Madge came to visit Gale at breakfast?" Posy asks with confusion. My mother is hesitant for a moment, Madge stares into her untouched oatmeal, and my brothers look at me. Late last night, as my mother had helped Madge get ready for bed, I had explained the situation to Vick and Rory. However, Posy, already asleep, had been left out.

"Posy, Madge is part of our family. She is going to live with us now," my mother explains for the four year old. Posy stares at my mother with her head tilted slightly and then turns toward us. Madge looks up and tries to smile reassuringly.

"What about your mommy and daddy?" Posy wonders out loud. Madge takes a deep breath and I can already see her eyes fill.

"My mommy and daddy are gone now," she says in a low whisper. A single tear runs down her face. I grab her hand under the table.

"My daddy is gone too," Posy announces, "But you can share my mommy and Gale and my toys." I can't help the smile that spreads across my face at my little sister's sweetness. Posy already loved Madge and was more than willing to take her in. However, I wondered if my new wife felt the same. We had barely a week to get used to the idea of being forced into a couple, and now, with her parents dead, she was thrust into the Hawthorne house permanently. No, not permanent, I think. Not if she chooses otherwise. We didn't have to pretend now. She could leave and be no more likely to be reaped than any other kid in the district. The marriage would remain, regardless. There was no such thing as divorce. Still, she had other options. Katniss, herself, had offered two just last night. Would Madge go? The idea didn't sit well with me. I felt unexpectedly nervous and sad. It must be my residual protectiveness of her. Or maybe just that I was used to her being with me each day. Either way, I had no desire to lose Madelyn now.

Madge gives a wet chuckle before breaking into sobs. Posy's speech was too much for her. She hunches over and buries her face in her hands to hide. Maybe breakfast wasn't such a good idea. Maybe I should have insisted on more sleep first. My mother reaches for Madge, but this time I make it to her first. Without more thought, I stand and pick her up out of the chair. I cradle her in my arms, surprised at her lightness, and she presses her head into my chest. I take her back to my room and immediately place her on the bed. I join her and tuck the covers around us. Madge willingly curls into me and allows my arm to drape over her side. I rub her back and wait for her breathing against my chest to slow. When her sobs turn to whimpers and then to silence, she speaks again.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here upsetting your whole family and forcing you to take care of me. I can go today," she says hoarsely. The same unease from moments ago rises in me.

"Is that what you want?" I try to sound light, a little indifferent. Her watery eyes stare up at me and I can see the blush on her cheeks, even before she speaks.

"I want to stay with you, but I don't want to be a burden," she says quietly. Relief washes over me. I am grateful for her honesty and ability to express her feeling in this moment, even if it causes her some embarrassment.

"Good, I think you should stay," I say firmly. Before I can rethink it, I plant a kiss on her damp cheek. When I pull back her eyes have closed. She adjusts herself slightly and settles into the pillow. I watch her fall asleep and fight my own fatigue. As my eyes begin to droop, there is a light nock at the door. I tilt my head to see my mother waving me out of the room. I gently pull myself from Madge's still body and make my way to the hall. Behind the closed door, my mother looks very worried.

"Mr. Wells is here to speak with you and your wife," she says with an expression full of meaning.

"I'll talk to him," I say quickly, "she needs to sleep a little while." In reality, I wanted Wells nowhere near Madge or the rest of my family, and I was going to do my best to get him out of the house as soon as possible.

"Mr. Hawthorne, how are you and your wife? Your mother tells me you have both already heard about the tragic accident last night," Wells says with false concern. So this was the card they were going to play. As Peeta anticipated, it was all going to be brushed off as something unexpected. My anger rises and I clench my fists. I nod curtly in reply. Wells expression darkens at sight of my mood.

"As you can imagine, this time of year it is not uncommon for upswept chimneys to catch fire. I promise, the District Peacekeepers did all they could, but it was beyond their abilities. Mr. and Mrs. Undersee will be greatly missed by all. However, it would be a grave mistake to place blame where there is none," Wells and I stare intently at one another. I don't trust my anger to answer.

"You have impressed the Capitol thus far, Mr. Hawthorne. It would be a shame for such a tragedy to turn you and your wife against those who have helped your family so much," Wells taunts. A slander at the Capitol and Wells is at my lips when a small hand rests on my closed fist.

"I assure you, Mr. Wells, that we could never blame the Capitol or anyone else for the accident," Madge answers at my side, "I know, better than most, how careless my mother could be on her pills." Her face is still pale and puffy from crying, but her expression is calm and there is no sign of tension in her body. Madge was the best liar I had ever seen. A perfect actress. I wonder idly if it came from years of dealing with political dignitaries and unpleasant guests to the District in her parents home. If I, myself, hadn't gotten to know her better, I would think she was telling the truth. Wells looks satisfied with her response. I attempt to take her lead and plaster what I hope is a friendly expression on. My hands, however, will not relax.

"Mrs. Hawthorne, allow me to give my sincere condolences at your parents' passing," Wells says politely.

"Thank you," Madge says lightly.

"I also wanted to inform you that a memorial service has been set up in their honor for this evening. Those working under your father have expressed the desire to remember them in this way and I think it would be nice to see you and your new family there," Wells continues.

"Of course," Madge replies. I can feel her tremble slightly.

"Finally, I apologize for the timing, but I thought it best to get some unpleasant business out of the way now. Generally the District allots a small stipend for children of deceased officials. This money would go to you of course, but it seems you no longer qualify. Married women are the responsibility of their spouse according to new standards in Panem. I'm sorry to break the news to you now, but I didn't want you learning of it later after you were expecting it," Wells explains. He doesn't look sorry at all. In fact, he looks a little smug, as if he is enjoying himself.

"I understand," Madge mouths. She looks very tired again.

"If I might be so forward, if you ever need anything Madelyn, I hope you feel that you can come to me," Wells attempts a gentle smile. I think of Madge, desperate and alone, forced to rely on someone as horrible as Wells. My annoyance peaks.

"No," I say firmly, "I will take care of her." Wells' smile falters.

"Well, I will expect to see you both later then," Wells says in parting.

A new kind of determination washes over Madge after Wells' visit. She willingly returns to the kitchen to eat a meal and then asks to use our shower. My mother sends Rory to the Mellark's for some fresh clothes and Katniss returns with him. I help my mother by dressing Posy, while Madge runs through the small wardrobe Katniss has brought with her. The clothing is all Capitol style and tailored for a much taller Katniss, but eventually they settle on a simple grey dress that fits the occasion.

"I'll bring back more clothes tomorrow. I have plenty to share and I bet we can find at least a few more things for you," Katniss offers. Madge nods, but looks uncomfortable. The dress is long and fits too snug in places. I can almost guarantee that all the clothing Katniss has will be the same. I had forgotten that point that Madge was left with only what she had worn yesterday. I wonder if my mother would have time to sew her an outfit or two before returning to school.

The service is held in the town center and the whole of Twelve appears to be in attendance. Someone has set up refreshments and seating around a large podium. I marvel at the speed in which the event was put together, before I remember that it may have been in planning days ahead of time. Several members of the Major's staff speak about the caliber of man he was. Highlighting his commitment to the District, his family, and of course, the Capitol. Wells himself takes the stage and I am again flooded with rage. He openly praises the Mayor's work and states that he 'always thought of him as a friend'. Once leaving the stand, he makes his way over to Katniss and Peeta. I watch the exchange perplexed. There is no sigh of discomfort or hesitance. Peeta shakes his hand and smiles as if greeting a comrade. A large part of me wants to question this absurd behavior. How could a man receive a beating one day and share pleasantries with his assaulter the next? But another side of my mind recalls Madge's earlier acting. Maybe I had missed that class in school, how to act around evil Capitol bastards. Or maybe I was just not as used to dealing with these people. Either way, I would never like Wells and the more I saw him, the less I wanted him around. I could only hope the Capitol would call him back soon.

Madge maintains an impressive level of composure. Even when we are flooded by people at the end of the ceremony, she remains steady. I am humbled by her strength. Over and over she thanks people for their well wishes and apologies. I get the feeling everyone knows the Mayor's death was no accident, but no one openly mentions it. When I feel she can't take any more, I excuse us, citing Posy's bedtime and the cold weather. As if on cue Posy yawns and Madge gives a great shiver.

I crawl gratefully back into bed a short while later. My poor sleep from the night prior has caught up with me. Madge only hesitates slightly before climbing in beside me. I want to pull her small body against me again, but before I can decide if it is appropriate, she turns over to speak.

"I don't think they will allow me to work in one of the government jobs yet, because of my age, but maybe I can help your mother. Or I can talk to some of the merchants to see if someone needs help," she says thoughtfully.

"What?" I say in confusion.

"I think if I am going to stay here, or anywhere for that matter, I should work and help out. It's what other girls would have to do," she explains, reasonable. She is right, of course. Another person in her situation probably wouldn't have the luxury of continuing school or just staying home. Many things flood my mind all at once. I think about her fair skin under the sun, working in the fields; her spending long hours outside of the house where she could happen upon Wells; her father's wishes to keep her in school and well cared for; and finally, I think of her small hands chapped and warn like my mothers from over use on the wash board.

"No," I say quickly, scrambling for a legitimate reason, "I need you to help me with my testing." It's a feeble excuse and she knows it. She eyes me skeptically, reading I don't know what, in my eyes. I tense for an argument or her flat out refusal.

"Even chemistry?" she asks.

"Yes," I promise.

"And I'll help around here with whatever your mother needs," she compromises.

"Okay," I agree. She smiles at me and I feel relieved. I always expect things to be more difficult. Maybe it was years of friendship with Katniss, constantly locked in a debate over something or another. Madge was so different. She wasn't a pushover, but she was willing to comply with most of my requests and she had a way of making you agree to things she wanted easily, as well.

"Thank you, Gale," she says as her arms wind around my neck. Pulling herself against me, she buries her face in my shoulder and hugs me tightly. She is warm and soft and I can still smell lavender in her hair. I return the pressure, but mind my manners. Her affection is not unwelcome, but I don't want a repeat of last night. Yes, it made sense that if we remained married, our relationship might continue, at least physically. However, it was hard to think about not loving a girl and persuading her to have sex with me. It felt wrong. I could hear my father's voice echoing in my head from the first time we talked about sex, the day he caught me, at twelve, kissing one of the Seam girls.

"It's hard to be young and controlled by your emotions. It's easy to get carried away with a beautiful girl, but women deserve your respect. Have your fun, but never take what doesn't belong to you. Certain privileges belong to married men who love their wives and have promised to stand by their side," he had taught me. I wonder what he would say about my current situation. I was committed and married, but I would never love another woman after Katniss. For the first time in a long time, I couldn't work out the right thing to do and none of my father's old advice seems to help. I comfort myself, knowing I have time to work it all out. Regardless of my feelings or hers, it's too soon after her parents' deaths. Anything done now would be the product of grief and I would most certainly be taking advantage.

Her head turns slightly and she plants a delicate kiss on the side of my neck. The gentleness reminds of me of her willingness last night. A shiver runs through me and my resolve falters. I catch her face in my hands and allow myself one kiss on her soft lips. As our mouths meet, she sighs a little. My tongue grazes between her parted lips, before I pull back. Her eyes open in surprise at the abruptness of my actions. She looks almost hurt and I wonder if she feels rejected. I compensate by pulling her into my chest. She relaxes into me and I feel myself drift off to sleep.

* * *

A big thank you to all of you for commenting and telling me to continue on with this story. I have decided not to shorten it or change the plot line to accommodate a lower word count. I also have decided to do what some of you had suggested and trust my instinct. Some of the chapters coming up will be very sad/violent/angst, but I promise there will be good stuff to come as well. So don't give up on it if it gets a little dark for a while. It will be well worth the wait and these next chapters will help build the plot. Please continue to comment and tell me what you think. I love to hear from you and it really does encourage me to write on.

Thanks,

Jules

P.S. A million thank yous to my wonderful and fast new Beta Silmarion who has gotten this last chapter out so quickly for you all to read and is in the process of looking over my past work as well! I think we will all enjoy the story a little more without my spelling and grammar errors!


	14. Section 14

**Book Two: Changing Paths**

**Sequel to Wishful Thinking. Katniss's deepest desire has come true and Peeta and her have been able to return to their past to save the people they love. They continue to rewrite their future as Snow and the Capitol loom over them. What will the torn alliance with Thirteen and an emanate war mean for their future? Will they still be able to cling onto each other and all that they hold dear? Written from four perspectives: P : Peeta, K : Katniss, M : Madge, and G : Gale.**

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

**Enjoy and Please Review!**

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Chapter 17

P POV

"Good morning, Mayor Mellark," my new secretary greets me from behind her desk. I nod in reply.

"Good morning, Mr. Wells," she smiles warmly at my companion.

"Good morning, Sylvia," Wells answers her. We take a few steps around her and turn to the door to the left. Wells opens it and directs me in.

"This," he says, motioning around, "is your official work space." It is what I would expect of the poorest District in Panem. The room is a moderate size with dreary walls, drafty windows, and old furniture. It has a very stiff feel to it, as only a government place could. It's hard to imagine spending a whole day in this depressing room, much less years, like Mayor Undersee. I long for the noisy chaos of the bakery, with its warm ovens and heavenly smells. One thing was for sure, I was not meant to sit behind a desk. 'It's not forever,' I tell myself. Wells catches my expression and laughs, misreading me.

"Oh, don't worry, Mellark. If you play your cards right, you'll be out of this hellhole of a District and on to bigger and better things in no time. Just stick with me, kid," Wells reassures me.

"I didn't..." I begin, but he looks at his watch quickly and cuts me off.

"I'm afraid I am out of time. I need to do a last walkthrough of the hospital with Dr. Aurelius today. Take some time here. Review some of the District paperwork and make yourself at home. If you have any questions, Sylvia can help you. Monday we'll talk shop," he explains.

"Okay," I agree.

"And congratulations, Mayor," he shakes my hand in parting and closes the door behind him. I wait for several long minutes and then tentatively poke my head back into the hallway.

"May I be of assistance, Mayor Mellark?" Sylvia smiles.

"Ah, yes," I scramble, "May I see all the general license forms for the District. I want to review them in quiet. Please do not let any unannounced visitors in." She nods and shuffles in her desk. Sylvia retrieves a large stack of paperwork and brings it to me. The top form reads 'marriage requirements'.

"Shall I phone you if any guests arrive, then?" she asks. I feel awkward ordering this woman around. She was many years my senior and has probably worked in this office since my birth. In fact, she would probably make a more competent Mayor than I, but the Capitol expected me to be a leader. And leaders must be able to guide those around them.

"Yes, please," I say. She smiles kindly, perhaps sensing my nerves, and returns to her seat. I shut the door quickly behind me and fling the stack of papers on the desk. I pick the right back corner first and I kneel to the ground to examine the floorboards. I push down on various planks and try to pry at random boards, but nothing gives. I stand and I shift to the other side of the room. As my foot crosses the barrier between a large area rug and the wood, I feel the slightest dip. It's subtle, something that others would pass off. I kneel again, peeling the rug back. At the end of a long row, there is a small finger hole drilled into the floor. Careful not to be heard, I insert one digit and lift the board. The floor opens into such a long divot that I have to stand and rest the plank against the wall.

Within the depths of the Mayor's office is row after row of thick file folders. Each one is filled to the brim and labeled accordingly. I have no doubt that this is truly the lifework of Mr. Undersee. It would have taken years to compile this much information. I scan the labels: Population Statistics, District Officials, Capitol Officials, Communication, and Tributes, are just a few, but my eyes fall on District Surveillance. I eagerly pluck the file from its hiding spot. Pushing the licensure paperwork aside, I spread open the large folder.

My eyes meet a stack of housing and building blueprints. It takes me a few minutes to recognize the first as the city building. Red dots and circles speckle the page. Most are concentrated in areas of high traffic, such as the main floor offices, but I notice a solid dot outside of the third floor room I sit in and a red circle over my current position. A few places in the building, like the small conference room I sat in with Snow, had neither. I scan the page for a key and find a small box to answer my questions at the bottom. A solid dot indicated the Capitol was able to see and hear you at any given moment, if their receivers were on. The circle was only audio recording. I could look at or write any information I wanted in the confines of this office, but all speech would be transmitted to Snow.

I shuffle through the stack and easily find a print for all six, identical Victor's houses. A red dot stands out at both entrances of the home and circles are present in every other room, with the exception of bathrooms throughout the house. I had always known we were watched, but seeing it laid out, in this way, left a bad taste in my mouth. I was suddenly very glad Katniss and I had our talk nights ago just outside the shower. We would have to be more careful with our confidences. We had already been careless too many times, trying to whisper to cover our talks.

I skip over a drawing of the Mayors house and a few shops in town, until I find a new slip of paper. Its recentness is clear by it's wrinkle-free and un-faded state. It is another house, smaller and one story. The same key sits in the corner, but not a single red speck marks the fresh paper. I examine the layout, one bathroom and three moderate sized bedrooms. I trace a line from the front door, around the left side of the hall, to the living room and it hits me. This is the layout of the new houses adjacent to Victor's Village, just like the one the Hawthornes inhabit. Could the Capitol have overlooked these homes? It seemed unlikely, but there was really no way to test it.

I flip the page in search of more information and my eyes land on the sheet behind it. The Mayor, as if answering my questions from the grave, has hand drawn a map of the district. The rough lines of houses are indicated in black pen and I can just make out the scribble of his writing labeling each structure. Over the black, covering the entire page except for another key at the bottom, is a mix of red and blue highlighter. Red are danger zones to be avoided and the blue are not monitored, as of yet, by the Capitol. This map must also be new, because he has indicated all the new homes in blue. I ponder over the possibility of it all again, and something occurs to me. The new homes weren't built by the hands of the Capitol, but men in the District. We all knew we were watched, but no one ever said it out loud. Having the workers install cameras or listening devices would prove it. Maybe Snow was naive enough to think we didn't know. Or maybe they felt the happy families moving into these furnished occupancies were less likely to speak ill of the nation. Either way, this oversight has given us a great tool. We could speak freely in theses places. We just had to decide whom to trust enough to use their home.

The phone on my desk rings loudly and I jump to my feet. I ease the long board back into place and smooth the rug out. I reach a shaky hand to the phone and answer it.

"Mayor Mellark, your wife is here to visit. Shall I send her in?" Sylvia says sweetly. I sigh in relief.

"Yes, of course," I tell her. As soon as I hang up, Katniss walks in through the door, a mischievous smile on her face. I should have known she wouldn't sit at home. I look at her appearance and am taken aback for a moment. She wears a very formal looking long coat and carries a large shoulder bag at her side. I have never seen her carry a purse before, and it reminds me of an old Capitol socialite. She catches my curious expression and holds the bag open to see it is empty.

"I thought I could help you carry..." she begins. I stride forward and clamp a hand over her mouth.

"Thank you, sweetheart. I would like time to look over these licensure documents at home later," I tell her. She nods in understanding and I release her.

"Is that what you've been working on this morning?" she asks motioning to the folder still open on the desk.

"Yes," I say, "you might find some of it interesting. Come have a look." She follows me behind the desk and without word, I flip through the various papers and watch her expression for understanding. She stares at the last sheet for a long time, thinking. I wonder if she sees the same opportunities and obstacles I do.

"Would you like to have dinner with the O'Maleys tonight? Maybe Haymitch will join us," she asks. I frown a little. She has decided Ella and Darius could handle our secrets over the Hawthornes. I wasn't mad, more confused. Aside from Haymitch and me, Gale had always been a trusted friend, at least before Prim...

"Sure, unless you think you would rather visit the Hawthornes," I say. She doesn't have to think it over.

"No," she answers quickly, "They have too many people in the house to worry about right now." I understand the meaning in her words. Gale and Madge may be trustworthy, but when dealing with the rest of the family, you couldn't guarantee a younger child wouldn't repeat something.

"Anything else interesting about your day?" she presses. I laugh a little at her eagerness. Katniss hates being on the sidelines. I kiss her before kneeling down and lifting the flooring. She takes in the row of files and then reaches for them, carefully concealing each in her bag. She is able to pull out almost half before the bag starts to show them from the top and we have to return several to the secret storage. I fold up the file on my desk and, placing the District documents Sylvia had given me on top, I tuck them under one arm.

"I think I should be about done for the day," I announce, "let me walk you home." I bid Sylvia farewell as we leave the office. She smiles and doesn't look surprised to see me go. I try to pace myself, seem casual, but it's difficult. I picture Wells catching us around each corner and ripping the bag from Katniss's arms. I see her tighten her grip, as if reading my mind. As we near the main lobby, I realize we are almost at a jog and I take her free hand and slow us down to a walk again. Her hand is sweaty in mine and she squeezes my fingers painfully. When we are in the open air, she relaxes slightly, but I don't pull away from her. The pressure of our hands reminds us to keep pace, and the snow-covered ground slows us further as we walk to Haymitch's house. It takes half a knock to bring the old man to the door. Haymitch, like Katniss, is not use to sitting idle.

"Kids, what a pleasant surprise," he says mockingly. Haymitch had been impatiently waiting all week for me to go to Wells and begin my 'new' job. Without him saying so, I had the feeling the rebellion was at a standstill. No doubt at a loss of where to go without the help of Thirteen. The information from the Mayor may be the biggest lead they have in months. Haymitch had specifically instructed us to come to him right away. Katniss was irritated by his commands. She felt that it was my right to decide what to do. After all, I was the one to gain Undersee's and Wells' trust. In truth, I didn't mind following his direction. I just wanted to move forward. I was already sick of all of this. When I reminded my wife that we were all on the same team, she scowled, but said no more. Katniss would always hold on to the anger she had for Haymitch letting the Capitol take me. It didn't matter what lifetime it was, some things you can never forget. As I would surely never forget my torture in the Capitol, Katniss would never make the same mistakes with Haymitch. Yes, she trusted the man, even more than in our original youth, but she refused to be left out of the planning. 'We are not your pawns,' she had told him. This time around, we would see the danger coming, instead of Haymitch trying to protect us.

"Do you have something for me?" Haymitch hedges.

"For us," Katniss shoots back.

"Yes, dinner at the O'Maleys' tonight," I cover for their carelessness. Haymitch looks confused and worried. He pulls the door closed and pushes us back into the yard.

"What did you do?" he stares directly at Katniss with fury.

"Nothing, yet," she replies, venom in her own voice. I scramble to defuse the situation.

"Haymitch, we thought it over and we think Ella and Darius would be good dinner company," I explain. I will him to understand that there are things he doesn't know yet.

"Oh really, you've thought this one through? You know where they both come from and what kind of obligations they have and you think it's okay to pull them into something like...like dinner?" Haymitch's eyebrows are raised in speculation. I suddenly feel young and stupid. Had I really thought what bringing our friends into the rebellion would mean? Ella was from Twelve and grew up poor, to hate the Capitol, but would Darius from Two feel the same? Would they refuse, after hearing the truth? Would they turn us all in? I couldn't be sure and it terrified me, but another part of my mind echoes the benefits. It wasn't just the use of a safe house to speak in, but if it worked, Darius could be an asset, having important connections to his home, District 2, and peacekeepers. Had Haymitch also considered this?

"Everyone will have to decide what to eat, eventually. Now is as good a time as any to invite someone in," Katniss defended our choice. Haymitch pondered her words. She was right. In the end, everyone would know about the rebellion and building resources and manpower now was not a bad thing.

"It's a little early for dinner," Haymitch comments. He doesn't think it's the right time to let others in, but then again he doesn't understand what I hold in my hands either.

"Wouldn't you rather get it out of the way," Katniss hedges. Haymitch doesn't seem to take her stance completely, but he does agree in the end. He returns to his house for two large bottles of white liquor and follows us down the road. I make a second stop at our home to get meat and bread for the meal. As we near the new houses Haymitch speaks again.

"Let me do the talking. You can't just come right out and say it in the house. They have everywhere bugged," Haymitch says.

"No…I mean fine, you can do the initial talking. I'm sure you all have some sort of procedure for this type of thing," Katniss mocks a little, "but you don't have to censor yourself. We found that out today." Haymitch looks shocked and eyes her bag expectantly. He is no doubt wondering what other precious information the files contain.

"Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say," he says, but the smile on his face is genuine and Katniss returns it in kind. We approach the door and Ella answers with Rosie in her arms. The six month old has a mop of straight red hair, like Ella's and her small brown eyes stare at me curiously. The site of the child pulls me back. Had I really considered all sides?

"You said this was what you wanted," Haymitch murmurs. Katniss's expression stiffens for a moment. Is it too late to reconsider?

"Ella, I'm sorry for showing up like this, but we need to talk to you and Darius. We brought some food and drink. May we join you for dinner?" Katniss says politely. Ella inspects us and then ushers us in out of the cold.

"Of course. Is everything okay? Your mother told me about Peeta's promotion. Are we celebrating?" Ella asks, perplexed.

"You might say that, but I'll let you decide later," Haymitch says cryptically. Ella looks confused again.

"Where's that husband of yours?" Haymitch asks before she can respond.

"He'll be in soon. He just went to the train station. It's tesserae day," Ella explains. Tesserae day, the first of each month and the slowest day at the bakery. At least they wouldn't miss my help with the low workload.

"It's probably best to wait for him," Haymitch tells her. Ella looks a little put off but leads us to the kitchen to wait.

"I can cook," I offer. Ella laughs a little, commenting that it's barely two o'clock, but agrees willingly to my services. After she shows me the ingredients left in the house, I start to work on a stew. I assure her I do not need help and she settles into a kitchen chair with the rest of her guests. Haymitch helps himself to a glass from the cupboard and pours a drink. Katniss still clutches her bag securely to her side. I have the large pot boiling when we hear the front door open.

"Where are my girls?" Darius's voice echoes down the hall.

"We're in here with company, honey," Ella calls back. Darius rounds the corner and relieves his heavily laden arms on the counter beside me. He turns to sweep the room with his eyes and proceeds to his family. Unabashed he pulls Ella to him by the small of her back and plants a wet kiss on her lips. The baby between them smacks his cheek impatiently and his turns to kiss her as well.

"You're so cold. Do you want some tea?" Ella asks, concerned.

"Or I have something stronger," Haymitch says motioning to the bottle.

"No, thank you to both. I'm sorry it took so long. I got caught behind the Hawthornes. They were having problems," Darius tells us.

"What kind of problems?" Katniss asks, concerned.

"I guess they didn't have their tesserae yet? I'm not sure, but Gale looked pretty annoyed with the whole thing. They had to fill out paperwork first," he tells her. I had never taken tesserae myself, although technically Katniss and I were now entitled to it as a newly married couple. As the Mayor's daughter, Madge wouldn't have either. It made sense that she would be confused, but I wondered why Gale hadn't known ahead of time. Maybe the rules were different when you got married? I want to ask, but tesserae is always a sensitive subject, so I keep my thoughts to myself.

Darius greets us all and joins the table. For a while, we share pleasant conversation and laughs. I almost forget our purpose, but as dinner is served, Haymitch cuts down to business.

"You're sure we won't be heard or seen?" Haymitch asks Katniss as he drains his glass. She nods. Darius looks at his wife, who still holds Rosie in her arms, questions in his eyes. Haymitch pulls the stopper off the liquor, refills his cup, and then dumps some into Darius's half full water glass. I get unexpectedly nervous. Were we making the right decision?

"You're going to want that now," Haymitch takes a breath "How are you feeling about the Capitol these days, son?"

"I love my family and my country very much," Darius replies in a stiff voice.

"No, I just told you, we won't be overheard. I don't want to hear that regurgitated bullshit they train you in Two. I want to hear what you really think," Haymitch says, a little annoyed.

"I love my family," Darius says again. He stares into Haymitch's eyes. The table is quiet as they test one another. I suddenly wonder if our situations were reversed and I was not a Victor, already tied to the Capitol, how I would feel. I might be just as defensive as our friend. Just as determined to protect what I love.

"Haymitch, spit it out," Ella chimes in.

"Fine. I'll give you the basics and the two of you can decide how much more you want to know," Haymitch has another drink and leans back in his chair.

"There is a rebellion in the works and your friends here," he gestures to Katniss and I, "think you can be of assistance to us." Ella smiles, but Darius stands quickly.

"Leave now," Darius says, fear painted across his face.

"No," shouts Ella "I want to help." Darius turns to her, desperation on his face. She stands, meeting him at eyelevel.

"Babe, you have no idea what they would do to us. If they found out we even heard what he just said they would cut out our tongues," he pleads. I see Darius in my mind. He screams soundlessly and thrashes under the Capitol's torture. The memory is too much. We should not have done this.

"It's okay. We'll go," I say getting to my feet.

"No, they're staying," Ella shouts, staring at her husband. The baby in her arms wakes with a start and cries loudly.

"Ella we have to think of Rosie and the new baby," Darius demands. Katniss stiffens at my side. That Ella is carrying her second child was news to all of us.

"It's different here, Darius. In Two you always have a volunteer for the Games. Our children will go into the reaping ball and no one will save them," Ella tells him. She tries to sooth the child in her arms, but her shaky voice doesn't help.

"I know it's different. But if you're scared, we'll find a way to get to Two. Maybe my parents will help," Darius says.

"And what if something happens to you or me or both? What will happen if they are not done punishing us? Look at Madge. What would Rosie do? She would be thrown on the street, just like I was. We have to help, if we can," Ella says with determination.

"You don't know what they can do," Darius cries, but there is some defeat in his voice.

"I don't know?" Ella says, shouting again. She abandons calming the baby to glare at him. Her fury rivals Katniss' and I feel sorry for what Darius has coming.

"I was at the mercy of the Head Peacekeeper to prevent from starving and they beat you for saving me. I've watched them murder children every year with the rest of Panem. I think I know what they are capable of," she retorts. Darius shakes his head sadly, a last plea. She softens at his expression, but she doesn't relent.

"Do it for them," she says, one hand on the crying baby and one on her stomach, "do it for me." She steps forward and presses her face against his shoulder. They stand still for a while and Rosie's tears stop. Darius reaches one arm up to hold his wife in place and reaches the other to his glass on the table.

"We'll listen and do what we can," Darius says, deflated.

Chapter 18

M POV

I feel his hand on my face as I come to. His palm rests on my cheek and his thumb gently traces my brow. My eyes flutter open and I stare into Gale's deep gray eyes. I feel my face flush with heat and I close my lids again to hide from the intensity of his gaze.

"Not that I'm pushing, you don't have to go back at all, but you said you wanted to go to school today," he hedges. My mind springs into alertness. I had made him promise to wake me. I sit up slowly against the headboard, bringing the blankets with me. If I am honest, I have no desire to step away from the warm bed occupied by Gale. However, I decided last night it was time to return to the normal swing of things, or at least my new normal. He appraises me with great concentration.

"Maybe after the weekend would be better," he offers. I smile at his efforts. My announcement to return to my education had met some resistance from Gale. Not that he was opposed to me attending school, more that he felt it was too soon.

"I just want to get it out of the way. Then, even if it's horrible, I don't have to go back for two days, at least," I explain. I hadn't left the house since the service. It was time to return to the world. Gale nodded in understanding and rose from the bed.

"We should get going then. I'll walk you with the boys," he tells me. I want to say this is unnecessary, but I already know he'll insist. I had expected his careful care and protectiveness of me to fade in the week following my parents' deaths. I woke each morning expecting to find the old Gale who despised me, but he never returned. Instead, I had this Gale. The man who held me through the night and watched over me during the day. The person who sent my heart racing as he took my hand or placed a kiss on my cheek. We weren't just friends any longer, but what we had become and what it meant to him was all still elusive.

I had offered Gale an out, a chance to be rid of me, but he had declined. Further, he had even refused to allow me to work out of the home. We had spent the last few days quietly studying in the living room, breaking to help his mother with chores, and sleeping each night in the same bed. He was more patient than normal and seemed comfortable touching me. Aside from holding me in the dark of the bedroom, he would brush my hand at the dinner table or push back a stray hair as I leaned over his books. Had Gale grown to like me, as I liked him? It seemed impossible, but the kisses we had shared previously told me he might. Or at least, that's what I suspected. I really had no experience in the matter. Boys may just like kissing any girl. That may be all I was to Gale, a girl to kiss and touch. Part of me didn't care and welcomed the distraction from my grief, but the other side of me, directly connected to my heart, ached at the thought that he would never really want me. It was selfish to think this way. With my parents gone, the Hawthornes had already done so much for me. If Gale was willing to help me and provide some physical comfort along the way, I shouldn't be expecting more. But unbidden hope rose in me with each passing day. I shielded myself from rejection by never initiating contact with him. However, once he reached a hand out, I was quick to cling to it. I wondered what he read in my own actions. Did I still look like a silly little girl from town to him?

I dress quickly in the bathroom and twist my hair into a bun at the back of my neck. I look like the same girl in the mirror, I even have on the same school clothes, but I only see a stranger staring back at me. What would the people in town see?

Hazelle, as she now asks I call her, feeds us a simple breakfast of bread, but my stomach won't even tolerate that. I am nervous to the point of shaking as I button my long coat. Gale eyes me skeptically, but doesn't protest anymore. Instead, he grabs one of my trembling hands once I have finished, and leads me out the door. It's early and many shops are not open yet, saving us from the nosey curiosity of the merchants, but the schoolyard is not as forgiving. There is no talk as they file past, but no student fails to look my way. I start to pull away from Gale, wishing to head inside but he pulls me back and turns my body towards his.

"Are you sure?" he says, eyebrows raised. I nod curtly in reply. He tugs me a little closer and leans down for a swift kiss on my lips. It's our first in days and it sends chills running through me. It ends before I have time to respond and I internally kick myself for always being caught off guard by his advances. I turn back to the building, a little calmer, and come face-to-face with the principle.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne, I'm glad I caught you. I need to have a word," says Mr. Strickland. The principal was a short, kind-faced, older gentleman, who my father had appointed over ten years ago. The school system in the District was inadequate to say the least, but the educator did his best for the children and families he served. I, like my father, respected him very much. Strickland ushers Vick and Rory away to class and pulls Gale and I off to the side, by the large apple tree we usually meet at.

"Madge, I'm afraid I have bad news. I can't let you come back to school," he says tentatively. His expression is pleading and I understand, even before he explains, that it is not his personal choice.

"Why not?" Gale spits out with fury. I reach for his hand to stop him.

"It's the Capitol," I say weakly, "they won't allow it because I'm married." Strickland nods appreciative for my insight.

"I had worked around it when your father was living, but without him fighting for it, I can't let any of the married women come back," He shakes his head sadly.

"When did this rule come to pass?" Gale says, a little calmer, but still angry.

"They pass new rules as they please," I say, coolly. "Thank you, Mr. Strickland, for letting me know." I turn quickly to go, wishing to be as far from this place as possible now that I know I am unwanted. I hear the principal call his apologies behind me, but I don't stop. I don't even realize I am running until Gale has to jog to catch up to me.

"Hey, wait, you're faster than you look" he says, wrapping his arms around my waist to stall me, and almost lifting me off the ground.

"I'm sorry," I say embarrassed for my poor behavior. He chuckles a little.

"For what? Being upset? Getting mad?" he asks with a smile on his face.

"Yes," I say confused.

"You're allowed to be pissed off and mad at the Capitol, especially when they throw something like that at you," Gale tells me, but he's wrong.

"No, you're not. You can feel whatever you want inside, but you can't show it. Not in Twelve or any other part of Panem," I say. I think of my reckless father and his poor word choices. Gale watches my expression soften as I disconnect the part of my brain fixated on my anger for the Capitol.

"I wish I could know what you were thinking. If I could, I would take you into the woods right now and let you scream until you ran out of curses for them," he says, the intensity from this morning back in his eyes.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking too," I say before I can stop myself. He laughs again. I smile, in spite of myself and the situation at hand. I love the sound of his laughter.

"I'm thinking that the Capitol is a bunch of fools for choosing someone like me when they could have your brilliant mind working for them. I'm thinking how that sad little school lost their best student. And I'm thinking how selfish I get to be with my study partner now that they have turned you away," he says in a serious note. I blush, speechless, but I keep his gaze this time.

"I also think my wife needs more to wear than my mother's and Katniss' hand me downs," he says with a smile. He takes me by the arm and pulls me toward the fabric shop nearby.

"No, Gale," I try to protest, "I can get by with what I have." He gives me a look of frustration. I have worn the same clothes for days, washing them in the evening while I wear one of Hazelle's nightgowns.

"My mother will be happy to sew you a few new things," he encourages.

"I can sew, it's just..." I say, but he cuts me off.

"Good, my mother hates to sew and never has time for it," he changes tact, "I'll buy the fabric and you can work on some things for the whole family." I weigh his words. Did Hazelle really dislike making and mending clothing, or was this just his excuse? I thought it was probably the latter but by saying it this way he had bound me in. All I can do is agree. He looks triumphant for his win and ushers me into the shop.

We leave with a total of seven bolts of fabric, including an expensive satin Gale saw me look at and refused to let me set down. As we set out down the street, I am already picturing patterns and styles for holiday dresses. One for both Hazelle and little Posy, made from the soft green material. I am pleasantly distracted, until we pass the train station and I catch sight of a long line of waiting people. I look at Gale.

"It's tesserae day, they're waiting for their allotments," he explains. A memory surfaces in my mind.

"We qualify for tesserae now. We should pick ours up," I say with excitement.

"We don't need it," Gale says sternly. We may not need it according to Gale, but I wanted it. I needed our marriage to help him in some way, even if it was as small and insignificant as our tesserae. I chose my words carefully.

"No, of course not, but if we don't take it, the Capitol will just have that much more and I'd rather it went into Posy's belly," I say confidently.

"You've never had to take tesserae and neither will my brothers or sister," Gale says. I watch the line of queuing people. It's not a group of starving Seam children, but adults from all over the District.

"This is different. It's not about need; it's about getting what you earned. You were forced to marry me, your family deserves this small portion," I insist. He looks like he wants to say something, maybe argue more, but instead we step into line. I smile at my own success. Gale was difficult, but I was learning to work with him and compromise. With my internal gloating came some guilt as I thought about his earlier words.

"Rory never took tesserae?" I ask quietly.

"No, I always took it in my own name, even last year when he was old enough," he says coolly. Gale loved his brothers and sister more like a father than a sibling. It didn't surprise me that he would do this for them. I stood quietly as we waited for our turn, not expecting him to elaborate more on the sensitive subject.

"The day I came to your house with the strawberries, my name was in the reaping ball forty-two times. I don't ever want them to feel the way I did," he tells me. I remember that day as well. The first time Gale Hawthorne spoke to me, and the day I thought I would lose my best friend to the Games. His honesty shakes something in me. The story of my mother's family, which my father had forbid us to speak of in front of him, comes to the forefront of my mind.

"My aunt died in the last Quarter Quell. Every year for the reaping, my mother would pull herself from bed and put me in the best dress the District had to offer. She was always so sure they would take me from her too. She would scare me so much I would be up all night worrying. It's ironic that it was their threat. I don't think much else would have shaken them," I confess. I can't say exactly what caused me to say this now, but I felt a small amount of relief, letting this sad memory go. Gale is shocked by my words and unsure how to respond. For a moment I think I see something like guilt flicker across his face, but I must be wrong. Gale has nothing to be sorry for. He's given me everything he can. He looks close to words, when Darius O'Maley steps in line behind us. He greets Gale and I, offering his condolences for my parents' passing. Gale asks him about his own family and Darius boasts proudly about his wife carrying their second child. As the men chat, we make our way to the front of the line. I give the woman my name and she shuffles through a large stack of papers.

"I'm sorry, honey, I don't have a Madelyn Hawthorne, but I do have you as Madelyn Undersee," the woman tells me.

"No," Gale chimes in, annoyed, "she's a Hawthorne. We are supposed to qualify for the newly married tesserae." The woman looks over her sheet again.

"No, I don't have you here yet, but if you were just married, it may take a month or two to catch up with the paperwork," she explains.

"Mr. Hawthorne, so good to run into you," Mr. Wells corners Gale next to me. My stomach gets uneasy at his appearance, especially after the words I have just spoken. I try to take in their conversation, Wells is bringing up test dates and training schedules, but the woman in front of me is getting impatient.

"You can sign up now for your family and it will switch over automatically once your marriage paperwork goes through, but I need you to fill these out," she hands me a stack of papers. I flip through them as fast as I can, filling in the people of my new household and listing my own last name as Hawthorne. Darius shifts behind us and I hear Wells say something about District Two. I scan the fine print once more, sign my name at the bottom of the sheet and hand it back to the woman in time to hear the end of the conversation.

"I expect you and your wife to be off by the first of January," Wells says. A man rolls out a cart with our supplies. I am pleased to see so much, and Gale suddenly looks happy as well. Wells gracefully exits and I feel lucky for avoiding my own conversation with him. Between Gale and I, we awkwardly pick up the food rations and finally step out of line.

"The tesserae really has improved," Gale comments, as we make our way home. The trip takes a lot of effort, my arms weighed down with grain and oil, but it's well worth the look on Hazelle's face when we set it all in the kitchen. The day is still early, but we have wasted a good amount of study time on the shopping trip, so we don't delay our work any longer. We open the chemistry workbook and together we complete several problems before Gale is ready to talk about Wells.

"He says I only have two more tests. Chemistry will be next week and then on to Physics," Gale tells me.

"That's good," I reassure him. He looks hesitant, I assume nerves for the actually exams.

"You're doing really well. I don't think you'll have a problem," I encourage him.

"Wells said I'm suppose to head to District Two after the new year," he proceeds. I pick up on the way he only lists himself as leaving. Has my stay with the Hawthornes run its course already? Has Gale grown sick of me?

"So soon?" I say involuntarily, dreading his answer.

"I guess so. Will you be ok? I mean, with traveling so far with me?" he takes me completely off guard and I smile widely.

"You want me to come?" I verify.

"Do you want to come?" he avoids the question.

"Yes," I say honestly. He rewards me with his own smile. His hand reaches up to rest at the base of my neck and slowly he inches me forward. I have time to read his intentions, but it only makes me nervous. He wets his slightly parted lips and reaches for mine. I am overwhelmed by their welcome pressure. I follow his lead, moving with him and enjoying the flavor of his mouth on mine. My hand rises to rest on his chest and he shifts forward, placing his free hand on my lower back to pull me nearer.

"Madge, read to me," Posy slaps a picture book down on my lap and Gale pulls away in an instant. I am flustered by the interruption, but I pull Posy up on the couch next to me and tuck an arm around her.

"Sure, what are we reading today?" I ask. She flops open the first page and gives me a play by play of the story. I listen patiently and catch a rosy Gale smirking at my side. He doesn't look annoyed, but amused by our unannounced company. He waits and watches our interaction until the front door slams open, bringing Vick and Rory home from school.

"Gale, Rory got into a fight and ruined his slacks," Vick runs into the living room to tattle.

"Shut up, Vick," Rory scowls following him.

"No fighting, you know better," Gale says sternly.

"Tell him why," Vick encourages.

"Shut up," Rory repeats.

"No, I think we should hear what was worth the cost of mending your clothes," Hazelle says, joining us. Rory looks angrily down at the floor.

"Just some guys at school talking about Madge," Rory brushes off. I blush, only imagining what must have propelled the Hawthorne temper into action.

"Saying what?" Gale says, a little angry now.

"No Gale, leave it alone," I say quickly. He eyes me for a moment before rising and leading Rory outside. I busy myself with Posy's story and the other occupants of the house return to their normal routines. Gale is gone a long time and when he returns with snow in his hair, Posy has already wondered away. I don't ask, but I can see more anger in his expression. I quickly turn back to studying and he willingly allows me to refocus us.

After dinner, Gale moves his mother's old sewing machine to the desk in his room and offers me time to work, while he does some reading. I'm sure he intends for me to work on something for myself, but instead, I find a pair of Rory's pants in the laundry and get measurements from them. I spend a lot of time carefully tracing on the material. I have to erase the pencil marks several times as I try to recall a pattern I once used, but eventually I have something I can work with. I cut pieces from a thick navy wool and am able to quickly put together a decent pair of slacks. I leave the bottom seams undone so I can double check Rory's height and I tentatively make my way to his room. I lightly tap on the door and a single voice calls for me to enter. Rory is in the center of a single bed writing out a long note. When he sees me, he hurriedly folds the paper and tucks it away.

"Hey, Madge," he says weakly.

"I felt bad for today, so I made you these to say I'm sorry," I set the pants on the bed. He eyes them in surprise and lifts his eyebrow, just as Gale would. I suppress a laugh.

"Thank you, but you really didn't need to do that," he says sheepishly.

"Don't thank me yet, I've never made men's pant, they might be horrible," I tell him honestly.

"I doubt that, Prim says you're great at that stuff," Rory replies. Encouraged by the compliment, I have him try them on for length. I estimated correctly and will only need to finish the seam. Rory is happy with my work and thanks me several more times.

"They're a lot better than mom's, but don't tell her I said so," he chuckles. As I watch the lighthearted boy, I try to think what might have set him off. My curiosity piques and I venture to ask.

"What happened at school," I question.

"I don't know if Gale wants me to repeat it," Rory says, his mood instantly darkening.

"But I should probably still know," I say. He looks pained and conflicted, but the words eventually tumble from him.

"It's just the same stuff they say about some of the other girls. You know, that you're pretty and what they would do with you," he explains.

"And that's what got you into a fight?" I ask

"No," Rory says suddenly angry, "they were making things up, saying they had been with you and you were just a hand-me-down to my brother. I couldn't listen to that and Prim heard them. You know how sensitive she is. She jumped to defend you and next thing I knew, they were calling her names too. I just lost it..." It was as bad as I expected and Gale had already heard it all.

"You know that's not true, right?" I say weakly.

"Of course, you should have seen who was talking, a bunch of twelve year old town boys," he scoffs.

"And what does Gale think?" I hedge. He smiles a little.

"My brother told me himself it was all bullshit," Rory says. I sigh in relief.

"He really cares about you, ya know," Rory says. I stare at him questioningly.

"My brother really likes you, at least that's what Prim keeps saying," he shrugs. I blush a little and don't answer for a while. Rory goes to the bathroom to change back out of the slacks and returns them to me.

"Thank you, again, for the pants," he says.

"Thank you for defending me," I say.

"That's what brothers are for," he smirks as I leave the room. I return to Gale's bedroom and find him on the bed with his book. I move quietly back to the sewing machine and find a needle and thread to hand stitch the seam. I work until a long shadow is cast over my shoulder.

"These don't look like they're for you," Gale says disapprovingly. I shrug.

"Someone else needed them more. I'll start on something for me tomorrow," I say waving the gesture off. His hands slide down along my upper arms.

"Are you finished for the day then?" he asks.

"Almost," I reply, "but if you need my help studying, I can stop here." I set down my project and turn to meet him. He takes me in before crossing the room to shut off the overhead light, leaving the room lit only by the bedside table. I move forward to look at the open page on the bed. I study the element table for a minute, before Gale steps to my side and closes the book. He brings his hand up to caress my cheek, gently trailing the path of my jaw. I gaze into his soft expression.

"Thank you for today," I say quietly. He laughs a little.

"Which part? When I got you kicked out of school, made you wait in line for tesserae, or you having to make my hot-headed brother a new pair of pants?" he questions. I join his laughter, but suddenly, just like this morning in the schoolyard, he leans down unexpectedly and captures my lips. Warmth radiates through out my body as his lips work over mine. His mouth parts, and he probes his tongue out to touch my bottom lip. I open my own mouth to him and I allow him to explore.

I pull myself flush against him by wrapping my arms securely around his neck. He responds enthusiastically. I feel him hug my lower back and lift me up onto the bed. I gasp slightly at the adjustment, as he positions himself between my legs, never breaking away from me. One of his hands hold my face to his, while the other wanders to my bare knee at the hemline of my skirt. I feel an urgency and want at his touch. I shake with nerves, but the shivers running down from my stomach wills him to move his hand higher. I wander one hand to his back and try to pull him closer.

He breaks away to lift me again, pushing me back towards the middle of the bed. I lay back on the mattress willingly, but curl a little to my side, holding my legs together. He follows me, resting his body next to mine and runs his hand up and down my arm, brushing the side of my breast and the top of my hip with each pass. His lust-filled eyes find mine.

"You're so beautiful," he says sincerely, moving away from me a little. I can see his intentions are to stop here, but my body protests his retreat. I remember Rory's words and Prim's assumptions and, emboldened by the new information, I press my lips back to his. I try to replicate his movements, but he takes control almost at once. His mouth moves to my cheek and then my neck. I bite into my bottom lip as his tongue finds a spot behind my ear.

My hand pulls at the back of his t-shirt until I find skin and then I allow my fingers to roam his muscular form. His own hand moves to cup my covered breast. His lips return to mine, as he finds my hardening peak. He squeezes it gently and I moan in his open mouth. I feel all my warmth shift down between my closed legs, and suddenly I feel very damp. I had never experienced this before and I flushed with embarrassment, pulling back a little. Was this normal for a girl?

Gale, caught in the moment, just moves to my neck again. His kisses a trail down to my collarbone and lower, until he reaches the top button of my blouse. He kisses and sucks at the skin there. I revel in the sensation of him and, almost unwillingly, I relax my legs. Before I can stop him, his free hand runs down to touch me over my skirt. I can feel fluid dampen the area under his palm and he groans a little at its contact. I can't tell what his response means. My embarrassment grows and I am about to push him away when he throws himself off me at a knock at the door.

"Hey Madge, will you be done with the slacks by the morning?" Rory calls. Gale rises from the bed immediately to move for the door and I sit up quickly.

"Oh, sorry, Gale," Rory says in surprise as Gale crosses to the bathroom. I stand and find the pants. I finish the last few stitches and hand them off to an awkwardly waiting Rory. I hear the shower running across the hall and close the door to change into my nightgown. When Gale returns, I leave the room to clean myself up without looking at him.

When I return, I crawl into bed, staying to my side. I wait for Gale's move. Without prompt, he reaches out and pulls me back against him. I melt into his warm embrace gratefully. I feel him kiss my bare shoulder and neck before settling down into his pillow. I take several deep breaths to calm the butterflies in my stomach.

Three things I now knew for sure about my marriage: One, my husband thought I was beautiful. Two, he was able to make my body do things I never expected. And three, I would have to find someone to talk to about sex before I found myself alone with him in District Two and out of distractions.


	15. Section 15

**Book Two: Changing Paths**

**Sequel to Wishful Thinking. Katniss's deepest desire has come true and Peeta and her have been able to return to their past to save the people they love. They continue to rewrite their future as Snow and the Capitol loom over them. What will the torn alliance with Thirteen and an emanate war mean for their future? Will they still be able to cling onto each other and all that they hold dear? Written from four perspectives: P : Peeta, K : Katniss, M : Madge, and G : Gale.**

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue _borrowed to create this story are not meant as copyright infringement. This story was created for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

**Enjoy and Please Review!**

* * *

Chapter 19

K POV

I clutch the cold porcelain for support as I heave repeatedly. I hear Peeta set down the plate of eggs, bacon, and fresh biscuits he had brought me in bed. I can still smell the scent of honeyed pork in the air and my stomach turns again. My body shudders as it pushes more stomach acid out. Peeta, now kneeling next to me, catches the loose hair around my face and rubs my back in slow circles. I spit excess saliva from my mouth and I accept the wet washcloth I am handed. I wipe my lips and rest my face on my arm over the toilet.

Peeta's eyes fall on me with a careful concern. I was on my third morning of vomiting and I had worn out my excuses for the state of my usually iron-strong stomach. Saturday morning it was the alcohol from Haymitch I never actually drank. Sunday, the bad meat that had come fresh from the butcher the day prior. But today my hopes were shattered, all pretense broken. I knew at the sight of the scrambled eggs, this particular ailment wouldn't pass as quickly as a stomach bug. At least not for the next nine months, and Peeta knew it by the expression of desperation now on my face. He stares at me for a long while, measuring his words. I close my eyes before he speaks, willing him to keep his promise and play pretend with me a little longer.

"Maybe just some tea and toast for breakfast from now on," he says tentatively, scared of my reaction. I nod and sigh in relief, without looking at him. As long as no one said the actual words out loud, I'd be okay.

"What can I do?" he says a little helplessly. Underneath his usual calm facade, he was just as terrified of this as I was.

"We just go about our normal day," I say with wavering confidence. I sit up straight to try and prove my point. I stand gingerly, testing myself, and find all the nausea has passed just as fast as it came. I turn on the shower and begin removing my nightclothes. Peeta still stands by the sink, tense as if ready to shield me from some unseen danger.

"I'm okay," I reassure him, "you have to go to work, Mayor, and I told Ella I would help her with Rosie today." My husband looks unhappy at my words, but I don't have to ask why. For one, he was dreading his time with Wells today. Neither one of us was sure what he had in store for Peeta, but after the private viewing of Twelve's new prisoner quarters under the hospital, anything was possible. Secondly, the idea of me set up in our friend's home running through secret documents made him a little more than uneasy. It wasn't so much about being left out that bothered Peeta. More so, the consequences for both us and our friends, if caught. Enslaved Avoxes had starred in his every nightmare for the past few nights. I wasn't immune to this worry, but I was determined to push things along. The sooner we were rid of Snow, the better. It was truly the only way to ensure everyone's safety. If the knowledge we now held could help in any way, I was going to access it by any means.

Peeta only nods in reply and leaves me to clean up. I hear him shuffle around in the next room before closing the bedroom door to leave me completely. I step into the shower and let the warm spray soothe me. I scrub my hair and body, ridding myself of my morning sickness. I am able to focus only on the physical task of it, until I run my soapy hands over the skin of my flat stomach. Unbidden thoughts consume my mind. However small or insignificant as of yet, I now had one more person to worry about. Their life was now directly linked to mine. From this point forward, every poor decision and rash action would directly affect them. Whether this was Snow's intention or not, I was now more tied down than even the Capitol had ever gotten me. Anxiety rises in my chest and I press my head against the tile wall, breathing heavily. I was already slipping; I needed to remain in denial longer. There was too much to do. 'Not real,' I chime in my head.

I think of our early days back in Twelve after the war. The times when Peeta's brain would pull him into a flashback. The damage from the Capitol was still so fresh, each false memory could throw him into violent rages in an instant. The sheer fear I felt as his hands clutched me painfully, mutt Peeta bent on my destruction, was always mixed with my determination to shelter the storm with my Peeta. I once stood in this very shower echoing the same words I now thought. My Peeta always came back to me. The tension would slowly loosen, first softening his eyes and eventually his grip on me. I will the old Katniss to return now.

"Not real," I said out loud, deluding myself. I steady my breathing a little each time I say it. By the time I leave the bathroom, I almost believe it. Almost...

I make my way down stairs, dressed and ready for the day, in time to bid Peeta farewell. He holds onto me for a long time, burying his head in my neck.

"I love you," he tells me in parting. I smile and offer one last kiss. I find toast and tea on the counter waiting for me. Suddenly hungry, I take it all in very fast and then turn to the plate of biscuits nearby. I eat two with honey before pulling on shoes and my coat. As a last thought, I grab one more and am out the door to the O'Maley's.

Ella greets me warmly and laughs a little at my full mouth, before showing me into the house. She casually pulls down all the shades in the living room and locks the front door before retrieving the files, carefully stowed in the spare bedroom's closet. We had discussed several other hiding spots, including under a floorboard, like in the Mayor's office, but the new houses were so soundly build, it made it difficult to hide faults such as loose flooring. Instead, we compromised to read the files as quickly as possible and return them to their previous home. I vowed to this by agreeing to come here to read each paper myself, until we were all the way through. I would report back to Peeta and Haymitch as I found anything usable. Haymitch had decided this would be the least incriminating. All the documents were either typed or in Undersee's handwriting; If found in his old office, Peeta could deny all knowledge of them.

Ella returns, placing the large stack of papers on the coffee table.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?" she offers. I shake my head.

"No, I've gotten you into enough trouble with your husband," I say. Darius, with the persistence of his wife, had begrudgingly agreed to help the cause by storing and allowing us to review the Mayor's files in his home. I wouldn't push the man anymore.

"He's been working on finishing the construction of the steel plant and won't be home till dinner time," she hedges suggestively. I smile at her enthusiasm.

"It's really better if you don't know too much," I tell her. She shrugs off my words, but doesn't argue.

I pull the top folder towards me, picking up where I had left off. Peeta, Haymitch, and I had spent the better part of the weekend poring over papers. A lot of what we had reviewed seemed like senseless data. I spent most of Saturday afternoon reading population statistics for our District over the last two decades. Other information, though seemingly useful, was not necessarily news to us. The several sheets outlining Wells' history in the ministry, including behavioral issues with female co-workers and a particular taste for fire and explosives during his training, surprised no one. However, one shining development had already come through.

The Mayor, with surprising ingenuity, had engineered a simple, yet effective way to communicate with other Districts' Mayors. Outgoing mail on the train was set into one compartment. Whether going to another District or the Capitol, these letters were examined and randomly reviewed in District Two by 'National Security Experts'. The Capitol employees would eventually find out about the rebellion if we openly conversed through regular notes. However, a second compartment of already checked mail, set for delivery by District, was also present. The only distinguishing differences were the location on the train and Panem's emblem stamped under the return address. The Mayor had included the small rubber stamper right in the folder, indicating only red ink should be used and carefully describing the correct area to leave the mail. Haymitch was excited, but cautious to test the theory. After some debate, we decided to send a short announcement to District Eleven, announcing Peeta as the new Mayor, and see what we got in reply. Haymitch had designated himself the official mailman of the group and had eagerly checked each train for a reply since the letter was sent just two days ago.

I finish the folder labeled 'District Officials', noting the apathy of Twelve's leaders. According to Undersee, the men and women working beneath him were not 'Capitol' people per say, but rather self-serving and indifferent. 'Then again, someone reported to Wells about his activity,' I thought to myself. I make a mental note to tell Peeta to never rely on his staff.

I collect the next stack, which Haymitch had partially reviewed: 'District Mayors'. I read through every detail in reverse order from Eleven to One. I learn, but am not shocked, that every District, with the exception of One and Two, are friendly with one another. It seems the Mayor of Eleven and Undersee had an especially good friendship and I am happy we have chosen him to begin our correspondence. As I complete the section of data, Ella joins me with Rosie in tow and I am distracted by the little girl as her mother feeds her.

"Would you like to hold her," Ella offers, noticing my gaze.

"No," I say quickly, but I remain entranced for a while longer. Only the loud knock at the door pulls me from them. Ella looks terrified and Rosie jumps a little in her arms. I am on my feet, sweeping the folders all into my arms, even before the second knock comes.

"Open up, sweetheart," Haymitch's raspy voice calls out. I relax in an instant, placing my load back on the table. I go to the door and crack it open enough to allow him in, and then lock it again quickly.

"We have mail," he beams with excitement. I pull the letter from his hands and rip it open. We press our heads together to read at the same time.

Mayor Mellark,

As you can imagine, I was very saddened to hear about the untimely passing of my dear friend, Michael Undersee. Michael was a good, clever man, always underestimated by the Capitol. I mean no disrespect when I say that you have very big shoes to fill as Mayor of District Twelve. However, it seems my late friend saw, at least, some potential in you, as he felt confident enough to leave you at least this information. Unfortunately, my trust is earned over time, so forgive me if I do not offer any of my own secrets or congratulations just yet. Instead allow me to offer you luck and perhaps a little advice in this new career path. Use your instincts when dealing with those you are unfamiliar with and always remember what your actions say to both your District, and the leaders of our nation. Seemingly simple words or actions can be your downfall, as it was for Michael and his wife. Perhaps as a Victor, better acquainted with the Capitol's ways, you will be more likely to succeed.

On a separate note, I wished to inquire about Mayor Undersee's daughter. I do not know if you are familiar with Madelyn Hawthorne, formerly Undersee, but if possible, please send me an update on her situation. Shortly before the Undersee's deaths, I was informed of Madelyn's marriage of convenience to an eligible gentleman in training for Capitol work. The Mayor felt the arrangement would work out long-term, but with the recent chaos, I have been concerned with her safety and wellbeing. If the child is in need of help and you are unable to provide it to her, please notify me. It would not be ideal, but I may be able to pull some strings and bring her to Eleven. It's the least I can do for an old friend, and what I would expect if the situation were reversed.

Finally, I will advise you that all communications exchanged in this manor should be destroyed after reaching their intended audience.

Sincerely,

Mayor William Sanford

District Eleven, Panem

I finish reading and turn to stare at Haymitch. Our eyes meet and I can almost read his mind. Mayor Sanford may not have Peeta's back whole-heartedly, but he did unwillingly give us the information we needed. Though subtle in his judgments, no letter that passed under Capitol eyes would be so forward. We could send and receive letters discreetly. The line of the communication for the New Rebellion had just broken open.

"The next letter goes to Heavensbee. He'll be able to replicate the stamp and distribute it," Haymitch says, completing my thoughts.

Chapter 20

P POV

I hold her longer than I should, considering how late I am running, but it's hard to think about leaving her. I had always felt protective of Katniss, even though she was so much stronger than I in so many ways. That morning I had seen something in her change. It wasn't just the realization of the unspoken pregnancy, but the frailty in her eyes. She was terrified of what she saw as a new weakness. My tendency to shield her from harm rebounded a hundredfold, and even just walking out the door took all my will power. But there were appearances to be upheld, and I had promised to be strong enough for all of us. I would stay true to my words.

Katniss is all I think of as I make my way into town. I am met with smiling faces and kind greetings as I pass each shop. The news of my promotion had been announced during a mandatory viewing just last night and the merchants seem eager to chat up the Victor who has just become Mayor. I graciously sidestep them, trying not to be rude, and hurry to the city building. Wells is waiting on the steps, and to my surprise, Gale Hawthorne stands beside him.

"Mellark, running behind this morning," he comments. "Everything okay at home?"

"Yes, of course. I just got held up with some of the chattier merchants," I lie smoothly. I shrug it off with an air of superiority and annoyance. Wells looks amused at my explanation. Gale, on the other hand, stares daggers.

"Gale, how are you?" I say, holding out my hand. I will him to respond well in front of the Capitol Official. After all, how would it look if Gale, the 'friend' who I had vouched for and gotten a beating over, punched me in the District square? He eyes me, but shifts his expression to a strained smile and accepts my hand.

"I'm well. And you?" he offers. I nod.

"What brings you to us?" I ask causally

"Mr. Hawthorne has testing today. I generally administer the exam, but since you are a District Official now, I thought you could handle it," he says, handing me a large sealed envelope. He briefly tells me about the testing procedure and where to direct the finished product.

"I had promised to meet with you today, but I have some more work to do on the hospital," he raises his eyebrow suggestively. I don't have to ask what he means as a picture of the long dark hallway comes to mind.

"That's not a problem," I assure him, "I'll take care of this and we'll catch up tomorrow." Mr. Wells nods in approval of my plan. Gale looks on as Wells pats my back like an old friend and walks away. I turn back to find the sneer back on his face.

"You two are pretty buddy-buddy these days, Mayor Mellark," he mocks. I hear all the disdain he holds for me drip from his words. Katniss and I had planned to tell Madge and Gale of my position another way, but between the funeral, my injuries, and the Mayor's files, we had run out of time before the broadcast surprised us. I am embarrassed, to say the least, and a little ashamed, but when I start to apologize, Gale brushes it off rudely with the swipe of his hand. Gale Hawthorne sees me as the man the Capitol wants me to be, the same person I fear becoming. I am, no doubt, as bad as Wells, in his eyes. My anger rises and in that moment, I want nothing more than to hate Gale and his self-righteousness. I want to verbally recount his failures and weaknesses from his past life. But mostly, I want to prove I am not who he thinks I am. 'No,' I think, 'I want to prove it to myself.' I think of a dozen things to say in that moment. Some involving the rebellion as excuse for my behavior and others citing the potential wrath of the Capitol, but none of them can I actually say out loud. Even if I could, I doubt Gale would believe any of it.

In lieu of a response, I usher him inside. I find the second floor conference room and close us in. I set the envelope on the far end of the table and take the seat farthest from it. Gale is uncomfortable as he settles in. I can't tell if it's the test, or my general presence, but I can make out the tension in his neck and shoulders even at a distance. Having done this several times prior, Gale requires no further instruction. He opens the packet and pulls a sharpened pencil from his pocket to begin immediately. Wells had asked me to time him, but I have never worn a watch and the room is devoid of all wall decorations. Regardless, I watch him run through the first page quickly and figure he won't exceed the exam period anyways.

I feel my head throb from the stress of the morning and close my eyes. My mind is instantly filled with Katniss. I hope she has eaten. I remember her willingness to accept my help this morning and I wonder idly what else I can do to comfort her, without bringing the pregnancy to everyone's attention. I consider my options. I didn't have as much time to bake, but bread seemed the best bet, recently. I would have to make it a habit of running to the bakery at the end of my day. My father or Jimi may even set aside a batch of cheese buns on request. It seemed a feeble attempt to aid her. I knew women in her condition needed more medical attention than that. Weren't there other things she should be doing? Maybe a pill or vitamin she should take? I didn't know for sure, and Katniss had made me promise to avoid the situation, but my worries consumed me. I wondered, if I spoke to Mrs. Everdeen about it, would she also keep the secret? Something in me said she would. Katniss' mother was knowledgeable in medicine, discreet when it came to the Capitol, and knew her daughter well enough to go along with a charade like this. Of course, I wouldn't let on to Katniss that I had talked to her. I would simply return with whatever she gave me and brush it off as our new routine, just as I had with breakfast. She couldn't be mad if she could still play along, or so I hoped.

"I hope Katniss knows what she's gotten herself into. I hope she sees who you really are." I open my eyes to find Gale just a foot from me. The completed test form is on the table before me and he wears the same expression of distaste as before. His words could be taken many ways in my current situation, but I know what it means coming from his perspective.

"You don't understand, Gale. You never have," I say weakly. Gale lived by his emotions, using them to guide his every choice. It had made him an excellent hunter, soldier and eventually leader in the new Panem. However, it was a reckless way to live in this world. Still, I envied his liberty. I was always the one keeping up the show. I was great at it and it was expected of me. What I wouldn't give to act exactly as he did. To tell Wells, Snow, and the world, what I really thought.

"I think I understand pretty well. It's convenient that you were the one to bring us the news of the Mayor's death and now you sit in his own office," Gale says, his words thick with implication. For one horrifying moment, I think of what the Capitol has just heard him say, and I envision Peacekeepers breaking the door down to drag him away. Then I remember we are safe and my fear rapidly changes to anger directed at his accusation.

"Do you think I wanted to be there? Do you think I want to be here now? I wouldn't have chosen this in a million years," I say through gritted teeth.

"Well you are and you seem pretty comfortable," Gale sneers.

"Nothing is what it seems, but we all have our parts to play. There is a bigger picture and more important things going on here. Katniss knows it, so does your wife, but you can barely wipe the scowl off your face in front of the man who holds your life and mine in his hands," I spew out. Gale is silenced, as he considers my words. I have already said too much, but I couldn't stand his smug ignorance for a second longer.

"What do you three know that I apparently don't?" he's tense, but some of the anger has left.

"Madge knows nothing," I say quickly, "she's just better than you at hiding her hate for them." He accepts this news with some visible relief, but looks for more explanation.

"And you and Katniss?" he wonders again. I look at him for a long time. I weigh what to say or what not to. I silently kick myself for letting it get to this point. I can already see Haymitch and my wife, full of worry for my slip. I swallow hard.

"If you can't trust me, don't. But trust Katniss. You know her. She's not someone to blindly follow orders or put up with injustices. She would be the first one to call me out if she saw me changing. Do you think she could even look at me, if what you were accusing me of were true?" I say with conviction. Gale looks uncomfortable at my words. He sees the truth in it all.

"Fine. So what's the big secret I'm missing then?" Gale asks. I shake my head slightly and I can see the anger rise in him again.

"Believe me, the less you really know, the easier it is for you and your family...for Madge..." I'm not sure what makes me bring out the last word, perhaps something in his mannerisms when I last said her name, be he deflates in an instant at my words.

"So what do I do to play my part then?" he questions. I smile at my success. Yes I have let more slip than I should, but if it meant Gale would behave from now on, it would all be worth it.

"Let them think you love the Capitol, agree with their every lie, follow their rules and directions, and do it all with a smile on your face," I say blandly. I recall a similar conversation months ago when I was on the other side of this talk. If Gale only knew how much I wished I could switch places with him.

"Well that all sounds very reasonable," he laughs. The tension cracks and I laugh with him. It's a humorless sound, one full of our resentment at the situation we have been put in.

"It's not forever," I say, for me as much as him.

"Right," he says in disbelief, "Just until you overthrow the entire government and bring peace and goodwill to all." He expression is smug and he waves me off so quickly he misses the look of shock on my face. I am able to collect myself before he looks at me again.

"I guess I'll put on my good manners until that day comes," he says sarcastically. "See you around, Mellark." He leaves me alone in the conference room before I can say more. It's probably for the best. I wonder, fleetingly, if Gale Hawthorne will recall this conversation the day he learns of the rebellion and coming war? How would that day come to pass? Will it be a talk with him and Madge like the O'Maleys, or will it be the day Katniss shoots Snow through the heart?

Almost at once, my focus returns to my wife. I leave the building without even stopping in my new office. There is still days' worth of material to go through at Ella and Darius' house. I stop at the train station first to deposit the testing papers in the drop box. I check for incoming mail under Haymitch, Katniss, and my names, but nothing is there. I suppress my disappointment, knowing Haymitch may have already been here today.

I follow the familiar path to the bakery and feel at home the second I push open the door. To my pleasant surprise, I am greeted by my mother, smiling with arms open in welcome.

"My son, the Mayor," she coos, pulling me into an embrace. Her hug is gentle, but firm, unlike any affection I can recall from her. After the day I have had, I willingly accept her comfort, brushing aside differences of the past.

My arrival is heard in the kitchen, and I am soon greeted with more hugs and congratulations from my father and oldest brother. The atmosphere is so nice and the scents of bread so inviting, I offer to throw on an apron and help bake for an hour or two.

"Oh, no," my mother says, "We have plenty of help back there these days." She and my father introduce me to three new staff members. I recognize at least two of them as former mine workers and note their overall positive demeanors. The back of my parents' bakery, even with my mother on their tails, was probably a nice change from the gloom and doom of the underground tunnels. The men stand tall and shake my hand with respect proper of a government official. 'This will take some getting used to,' I think. As a Victor, people looked at you with intrigue. You were their star, a source of amusement, or even pity. The label of Mayor brought different reactions. People saw me as someone with power and influence that could make their lives better or worst. Sadly, they didn't realize all the true power still rested with the Capitol. I was just their puppet, with Wells pulling the strings. At least, for now anyways.

"Don't give him too much credit, guys. I can still remember his bedwetting days," Jimi teases. I join his light laughter, noting his good mood. I look around and notice the absence of my brother's wife, Reese. When I inquire about her, my mother, if possible, beams even more.

"We thought you would have heard, being so close to Mr. Wells, but no matter. We can tell you the good news! He offered her a position as his assistant last week! Now we have two children working for the Capitol!" my mother says proudly. I watch Jimi's expression turn from joy to a careful smile, devoid of emotion. Apparently, Wells had taken a much greater interest in Reese than I had originally realized. I couldn't help sharing my brother's feelings on the matter. Reese's new job under the Capitol Official was not a good thing, but there was nothing that could be said or done about it. I didn't have to wonder how my sister-in-law would feel, either. That, too, was obvious. Reese had made her delight in Wells visible every time he entered the shop.

"Peeta," my mother hedges suddenly, "you know, with Reese gone, we are short in one position at the front counter."

"I can help on weekends sometimes, but I won't be any good to you during the week," I offer. My mother twists her hands, uncomfortable.

"What your mother is trying to say is that, if Katniss is free and available any days, we would love to have her," my father tells me. He and Jimi smile at my mother's general distress. I barely have time to think of polite ways to decline, when my mother speaks up again.

"It was Wells' idea. He thought she might have too much free time with you out of the house." It was a done deal then. If it came from Wells or the Capitol, it was an order. I suppress a groan, already anticipating Katniss' reaction to this new form of torture. She wouldn't be at all opposed to the work, or even being around my father and brother, but the idea of her and my mother together for long hours was bound to bring about some choice words.

I agreed to speak with Katniss, but made an effort to make her daily schedule sound hectic. Maybe she could get away with only a day or two a week. I may even be about to join her at those times if we planned it right. My father willing plied me with two large loafs of fresh bread and their remaining cheese rolls before I left them. I walk slowly toward Victors Village, pondering my coming conversation with Katniss. Perhaps I will break all the bad news at once, telling her about Gale at the same time. The sooner I got it out of the way, the better.

Despite my meandering pace, I round the corner near our home soon. A light snow has begun to fall, adding another layer to the frozen ground. I take time to enjoy my surroundings. My eyes run over the snow-covered houses. It's so beautiful, I can already see the painting forming in my mind. I memorize the shapes and angles of one of the empty houses, planning to sketch it once inside. That's when I spot them.

A small, pale, blonde girl with a single braid over her shoulder rests her back against the side of the house. The tall, thin, dark-haired boy holds a hand on the siding, his head tilted towards her. I watch, almost in slow motion, as they speak unheard words and smile at one another. The boy boldly inches nearer and the girl's eyes flutter closed. Their lips meet.

"Primrose!" I shout, startling myself as well as them. They break apart. Rory Hawthorne stares at me with guilty shock and Prim hides her face with one hand. They collect themselves, admitting defeat and walk slowly towards me. I consider reason after reason to scold their behavior, but I am pulled up short. Almost anything I say would be hypocritical, considering all the experiences I had in my life. I consider leaving it alone altogether, but an uncomfortable feeling twists my insides. I didn't like little innocent Prim kissing a boy. Is this what it would feel like to be a father?

"I'm really sorry, Peeta. It was all my idea to skip school. Please don't tell Gale or Katniss," Prim pleaded once she reached me. Her eyes are filled with remorse and Rory, with his head down, shifts behind her. A light bulb goes on in my head and I silently thanked Prim for giving me a proper excuse to interrupt them.

"You know how upset she would be if she knew what you were doing right, now instead of sitting in class," I say quickly. Her expression is unfathomable. Her clear blue eyes bore into me, pleading for mercy. I can see any boy, especially the smitten Rory, following her anywhere.

"Please, Peeta," she willed me. She, like Katniss, had no idea the effect she had on people. Then again, maybe she did. The instant I softened and shrugged, she knew she had won. A smile lit her face and she flung her arms around me. Prim regained an appropriately solemn expression when I demanded that I walk each of them home. I opted to take Rory first. Even though it was out of the way, I would need to speak with Mrs. Everdeen. We made it to the Hawthornes' and I knocked on the door. It was Madge who answered, a giggling Posy wrapped around one of her legs.

"Is everything okay?" she said, concerned. I hadn't thought what I would say when I dropped him off.

"We skipped school and Peeta caught us kissing, but I promise it was the first time and it won't happen again, please don't tell," Prim said very fast and then blushed furiously. Madge met my gaze for confirmation and we both smiled a little. It hadn't occurred to me until then that this was their first kiss. I almost felt bad interrupting something so private.

"Why aren't you in school?" Gale's voice came from behind me. Rory stared at Madge in horror. She eyed him skeptically, before speaking.

"Prim wasn't feeling well. He volunteered to walk her home, but Peeta ran into them," she lies coolly. Rory visibly relaxes and Prim instantly puts on a poor show of illness, hanging her head and leaning against me slightly. I would laugh if Gale weren't so near, bringing back my frustration from earlier in the day.

"Now that you've gotten Prim taken care of, you need to go back to get your younger brother. The last bell will be ringing soon," Gale tells Rory. He nods and gives Prim a last fleeting look before running off gratefully. We stand in awkward silence for a moment. Gale slides into the house around me. He wraps a protective arm around Madge and scoops Posy up in one arm, before inspecting Prim from a distance.

"You all right, Everdeen?" he says softly. She nods meekly.

"I think I better get her home now. Thank Rory for all his help." I try not to sound too sarcastic. I wheel Prim from the house. Once the door is closed, she straightens her posture and smiles in triumph again.

"You really look awful, Prim. Maybe I should carry you, you poor sick thing," I tease her. She looks abashed again.

"It's a good thing Rory was there for you," I carry on with some humor. Something lights her face.

"Do you think he really likes me? " she says suddenly. I groan.

"What's wrong?" she says.

"You're too young to be thinking that way. Katniss would...I don't even know what she would do," I say.

"No, it's not that. You're upset about something else today," she says wisely. I stop in front of the Everdeen home.

"What makes you think that?" I avoid her question.

"You're usually not this tense. In fact you're never like this, unless something is wrong with my sister," she explains. I can't imagine the look on my face at the truth she speaks.

"Is Katniss okay?" Prim asks with genuine worry. Prim is too smart for her own good. Something tells me she will learn the truth about Katniss very soon, whether or not I say anything now. I remember the training she has been receiving. Prim could probably answer my queries as well as Mrs. Everdeen. I give in.

"She's fine...just pregnant..." I barely get the words out before she squeals in delight and hugs me tightly again. I grab her quickly by the shoulders.

"But you can't tell a soul. Katniss isn't ready to talk about it. In fact we are going to try not to say anything until the Quell. Please, you know how your sister is," I implore. She nods in understanding.

"The only reason I am telling you now is because I'm worried we're missing something important we should be doing. Can you help me?" I say. Prim smiles widely, and I can't help but feel a little better about the situation. Her joy and confidence is infectious. I pull on her single braid and can't help but laugh in pity for Rory. Another poor boy as being pulled in by the overwhelming draw of an Everdeen woman. If I wasn't so annoyed with him kissing my new little sister, I might give him a pointer or two.

Chapter 21

G POV

"Are you sure?" Madge raises her eyebrows, testing me. I refuse to look away. I may have lacked confidence in other areas, but with this, I knew.

"Check the answer," I say smugly. She flips the pages until she reaches the key at the back of the book. She scans the long column and her face falls.

"Where did I go wrong?" she pouts a little. We had moved on to my last subject: Physics. With great relief, I had found it a lot easier than the other topics. I had originally dreaded the long problems, a mix of math and objective thinking, but I found it suited my previous skill sets. Each scenario set up a picture in my mind and I found it a lot easier to deduct the answer when applying it to real objects. Madge, on the other hand, took a little longer. Ironically, I found more and more that I slowed down to teach her. I didn't mind, but at times she would leave me, worried she would shake my focus. I laugh at her expression. She raises a finger swiftly to her lips and points at the living room floor. Posy is slumped over one of her dolls, fast asleep.

"I guess we missed nap time," I say. Madge smiles at the sight and then rises.

"I got her," she replies, as she gingerly lifts the girl into her arms. Little Posy is getting not so little anymore. I wonder how someone as light as Madge can even lift her, but this is not the first time she has surprised me with her strength. A satisfied smile comes to my face as I picture her shoving away the Mellark boy, three times her size. Madge smoothes out Posy's hair and dress before walking out of the room.

Life in the Hawthorne house was starting to settle into a nice consistent pattern. Each member of my family had welcomed Madge with open arms and already, it was hard to think about her ever leaving. Most days, my mother, Madge, and I shared cleaning duties. Days when the boys were at school and my mother collecting or distributing the laundry she did, Madge and I took over watching Posy. I studied, fixed the wall by the door and helped the boys with schoolwork. Madge shared laughs with Rory, played with Vick and Posy, cooked dinner and sewed clothes for six. She seemed to never stop moving during the day, determined to be of use, but she never failed to be at my side when I asked. In truth, she was doing equal work with the rest of the household, but I still felt guilty at times for her help. Several times, when my mother or I tried to stop her, she shrugged us off.

"I want to. I like pulling my own weight and I'm used to taking care of people," she had told my mother one afternoon. I had pondered her words for days after the fact. I had always pictured the Mayor's daughter set up in the large house with a housekeeper and a cook. Maybe that wasn't the case, at least, not all the time. Madge's mother was always ill and I suspected she spent a lot of time with her. I could see that same care come shining through with the way she interacted with my siblings. It was an odd thing to think about, with our current situation, but I could already see what a good mother she would make if she ever had children.

I think of Katniss in the woods, so long ago, and her open refusal to take on such a title. My old hunting partner never wants to have kids. I wonder if Madge feels the same. I imagine she doesn't. So much was different between the two girls who had been friends for years. However, any child Madge had would have to be mine. As bad as I felt thinking about sleeping with my wife, I felt worse thinking of having children in a loveless marriage. I had promised myself I would always give Madge what she wanted and needed. What would I do if, someday, a baby were her request?

Madge returns to my side on the couch and I push these thoughts away, because that day was not today. Today, she wanted for nothing. Today she was happy. She smiles at me and I resist the urge to reach out and touch her. She still could be brought to tears if her parents were mentioned, but Madge seemed better, overall. She smiled often and would sometimes even laugh with me. With her contentment, I found myself happier by the day, as well. In the beginning I had worried we would grow tired of one another, making it difficult to be in the same house, but the more time I spent with her, the more I craved her presence. Shamefully, I had to admit to myself, I enjoyed her most when we were on our own. I liked having her full attention and I couldn't get enough of her physically. I reveled in the feel of her soft warm body pressed against mine each night and I longed for our next kiss, almost as soon as one ended.

We had shared several more kisses since we were interrupted by Rory, but I have a feeling things won't progress much more in a house so full of people. With more guilt, I realize my greatest pull to get into training is the memory of Madge under me. Just the thought of her soft moans in my ears and the feel of her wet thighs made we weak with want. I try to reign in my control and turn back to my studies. After all, my last test was tomorrow morning.

I wonder with chagrin if our new Mayor would administer the exam again. I had listened to his excuses and I had even taken his advise to heart. I would put up a better act in front of Wells and those in Two. However, the sight of Peeta still brought about a lot of anger and annoyance in me. I wondered if I would ever be able to tolerate the man.

Rory, Vick, and my mother trickle in and Posy wakes from her nap to flutter around the living room, but I stay diligently working on my task. I review some of the harder problems and Madge wonders away to the kitchen. I hear pots and pans clink and know she is preparing dinner. She returns in time to pull me to the table and I enjoy the meatloaf she has put together mostly from our tesserae.

"The Everdeens have invited us to Christmas dinner next week," my mother announces. Holidays were a rarity in the Districts, aside from the Capitol-imposed Hunger Games. However, the old Christian holiday had somehow survived over the years, even if it wasn't practiced the same way it talks about in the textbooks. There were no presents or decorated trees, at least not outside of the Capitol, but people did take the day off to enjoy their families and often share a meal with friends. I note the murmur of agreement at the table and bite my tongue. I had nothing against Prim and Mrs. Everdeen, but I knew Peeta and Katniss would also join.

"I hope it's alright that I already accepted," she says tentatively in my direction. I smile unwillingly. No good would come from refusing to go, especially when the rest of the family was on board.

I try to help with dishes, but I am forced out of the kitchen by both my wife, and mother. I return to my studies and try to make this last precious time before my exam count. Madge joins me once more, with fabric and a needle in hand. I don't need her to help with the review, but I like her company and she can tell. The room grows dark and the house quiet, but she remains at my side, only rising to switch on the lamp next to me. Later, between problems, I reach over to touch her leg and find her fast asleep. I consider my progress. The last several problems I have almost memorized. It's time to sleep.

Madge's knees are curled slightly on the couch next to me. Her head rests in one of her small hands. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically with each gentle breath. She is so peaceful, I can't bare to wake her. Carefully, I pull her into my arms and carry her down the short hallway. I don't turn on the lights as a lay her in the bed and she doesn't stir. I quietly remove my outer clothing and crawl into bed in boxers and a t shirt. As I set the old bedside alarm clock, Madge shifts at my side.

"Gale," she says tentatively.

"I'm here," I say resting my hand on her arm. She rolls to face me.

"I'm sorry I feel asleep," she says in a whisper.

"Don't be," I brush it off, "you had a busy day chasing Posy around."

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" she asks

"I think I am... for once," I laugh a little.

"I promise I'll do a better job of helping you when we get to District Two," she tells me.

"Madge you're already the best wife I could ask for," I say. The words slip out easily and without thought. As the statement marinates between us, I can only see the truth in it. Madge was a great wife in so many ways.

"I really want to be," she says, so softly I barely hear it. She rolls away and shifts into a sitting position on the side of the bed.

"Do you want me to get the light so you can go change," I offer.

"No, but..." she pauses and I can hear her take a deep breath, "will you help me…" My heart pounds heavily in my chest with anticipation. I wait a moment for more explanation, but she doesn't speak again. Instead, I watch with the greatest attention as she brings her arms up to work on the buttons at the front of her shirt. I pull myself to my knees and press my front to her back. Her arms drop to her sides and she leans more fully against me. I run my hands up to finish the job she started. My eyes follow the slow progression as the shirt falls open. The top of her full, smooth chest appears as I pull the fabric down her relaxed arms and away from her. She trembles slightly as I kiss her hair, her shoulder and then her neck. My hands, almost of their own accord, caress back up her soft stomach.

With shaky fingers, Madge reaches between our bodies, undoing the clasp of her bra. As it, too, falls away, I lose all control. My hands travel higher and firmly cup each breast. Her nipples pebble under my palms and I hear her sigh loudly. I apply more pressure at their peaks and my lips capture the base of her neck. She gasps, as I lick and suck at her skin there. The sweet taste of her is intoxicating. My cock starts to harden between us. She only presses more securely to it. I throb painfully at the contact.

She continues to shake under my touch. Whether from nerves or pleasure, I can't say, but it only spurs me on. I want her, all of her. One of my hands finds the top of her pants and she allows me to unfasten the button and unzip them before she stops me with her own hands. As if in protest, my shaft twitches against her back. We pant in unison as minutes pass. I slowly ease away from her.

"I'm sorry," she whispers into the dark. I take it as cue for the end of our interaction. Regretfully, I move completely off of her and rise from the bed. In frustration, I head for the door.

"I want to but..." her voice catches a little, and immediately I feel horrible for my hasty retreat. Everything was so new for her and if I was honest, I wasn't being fair. I find the dresser and pull out a night gown. I return to her and kiss her lips gently before slipping it over her head. Her large green eyes stare up at me, and even in the dark, I can see the conflict there.

"Gale," she begins. I silence her with my mouth. She responds with conviction and stands to wrap her arms around my neck. My erection gives me another reminder of its presents and I pull away.

"I do want to, just..." she hedges.

"Not yet," I sigh with a smile. She tries to turn her face from me, but I grab it for one more fleeting kiss. I wouldn't let her feel bad for denying my aggressive advances and I certainly wouldn't push a scared girl to have sex with me.

I close the bathroom door and settle on the tile wall. This close, a shower won't help. I pull myself painfully free. I grip hard and run my hand up and down at a fast pace. I think only of my wife's gentle moans and the way her smooth hand would feel on me. I come quickly and return to bed.

Chapter 22

M POV

I wake to the sound of the alarm clock and rise to make Gale breakfast. He greets me in the kitchen with a smile and a small kiss that helps brush away some of my embarrassment from the night prior. We sit silently over a small meal and I wish him luck with a second kiss as he leaves for his test.

I make my way back to Gale's room and find clothes, before heading into the bathroom. I dress quickly and wash my face, before staring into the mirror. As I twist my hair back, I catch sight of a large purple mark on the side of my neck. I run my fingers over the tender skin and I can vividly recall the feel of Gale's lips on me. I shudder at the thought of his roaming hands. Just remembering the pleasure of his every touch sets me on edge. In that instant, my mind is set. I would not be caught unaware next time Gale wanted to touch me. I would seek out the information that was holding me back. So after smoothing my long hair to cover the mark, I sought out the most direct and sexually knowledgeable women I knew.

"Madge, hi," Ella O'Maley said in surprise as she answered the door.

"Hi," I say hoarsely. All the way here, I had scrambled to think of what to say, but I still came up empty.

"Madge?" Katniss appears from behind Ella. My resolve falters. This was not a conversation I intended to have with Katniss, as well. I shift uncomfortably and consider excusing myself.

"Well, come in, it's cold out," Ella pulls on my arm. I am ushered into the living room identical to the Hawthornes'. I take my normal spot in the room, on the couch. The other women settle in chairs across from me and an awkward silence fills the room.

"Can I get you anything? A drink? Water? Tea?" Ella offers. I shake my head. The long pause continues.

"Madge, is everything okay?" Katniss asks with worry.

"Yes," I say in a hurry. I sound frazzled even to myself.

"I really don't mind the company, but was there any particular reason for your visit," Ella wonders. I shrug noncommittally. Katniss stares at me, perplexed. It's really no wonder why. I had never even been to the O'Maley home before, and I had just barged in, unannounced and without explanation.

"You have something you want you tell me," Ella concludes.

"Ask, actually," I say, eager for her help and grateful for her kindness and patience.

"Is it about Peeta?" Katniss says suddenly, "I'm sorry, we meant to tell you differently." I am shaken by this turn in the conversation. I wasn't upset with my friends, but the last thing I wanted to talk about right now was my parents' passing.

"No, that's not it," I stammer. "It's about Gale."

"I meant what I said. You can stay with us. We'll move you today," Katniss says quickly.

"No," I say with frustration.

"Maybe it's better to just say it," Ella tells me with an amused smile. Part of me wonders if she already knows.

"I was wondering about sex," I blurt out before blushing wildly. Ella smiles widely and Katniss leans back in her chair with surprise.

"With Gale," Katniss says for clarification.

"Who else?" I say a little offended.

"So things are going well then?" Ella asks, a twinkle in her eyes.

"I think so," I hope out loud. I try and plead with my eyes for the answers I want.

"What do you need to know?" Ella responds

"I guess the basics, or everything," I almost whisper.

"It can be fun, but generally not the first time, at least not for a girl. It hurts and you'll be sore for a while, but it gets better. Katniss would be better to ask about that part," she offers. I look at Katniss and find her blushing as deep as I am.

"Or we'll just move on," she continues.

For the next twenty minutes, Ella describes in graphic detail what sex is and how it works. I continue to turn red and my face feels like it could burn my hands as I try to hide behind them at certain points. I don't turn toward Katniss again, but I can almost guarantee this talk is making her just as uncomfortable as me. However, not all is in vain. Ella's descriptions are surprisingly helpful and I am relieved on some level when she doesn't skip over any topic, such as how to touch him or where everything goes precisely. She even offers several of her personal stories, but I shake my head quickly each time. As she nears the end of her talk, she still hasn't commented on issue I had again the night prior.

"Any questions?" she says, satisfied with her performance. I shift uncomfortably.

"Will it help if I say nothing out of your mouth will surprise me?" Ella says kindly. I swallow hard and will myself to speak this one last concern.

"I got wet..." I whisper. Ella softens and I wonder idly if it is pity I see in her face.

"That means he's doing it right. It's a good thing," she explains.

"Oh," is all I manage. Silence fills the room again, until Ella laughs loudly. For a minute, I think it is at my ignorance.

"I'm sorry, this is wrong, but I have to know," she looks a little maniacal. "What's Gale like?" I'm not even sure what she is asking, but Katniss, in the corner of my eye, looks shocked again.

"He's stubborn, but kind," I say lamely.

"No, I mean what's he like, you know, in the middle of things?" Ella laughs again.

"I have nothing to compare to, but it feels good," I say honestly and look away quickly. Ella accepts my words and turns them over.

"I always pictured him a little rough and demanding. A man who likes to be in charge, but in a good way," Ella elaborates.

"Ella!" Katniss hisses before I can consider the last words. Ella smirks at the havoc she has caused.

"Peeta is the good boy. All gentle kisses and light rubs that drive you crazy," she taunts our friend.

"And Darius?" Katniss scowls with anger and embarrassment. Ella thinks again.

"Surprisingly adventurous," she tells her. Katniss literally covers her ears.

"Am I on target?" Ella questions me again. I involuntarily run my hand along my neck and nod.

* * *

Penny for your thoughts... What parts are you liking best or not so crazy about? Please leave me a review!


	16. Chapter 16

The rights to all content of The Hunger Games trilogy, it's characters, and the world it is set in goes to the talented Suzanne Collins. Any information or _pieces of dialogue_borrowed to create this story are not meant as copy right infringement. This story was created solely for my own fun and for you the reader. I hope you enjoy and please review!

****************************New section added at the bottom 12/22/12****************************

* * *

Chapter 23

K POV

Effie Trinket's gold wig gleams in the hot sun of the afternoon. Silence falls over the square as she glides towards the large bowl at her side.

"Ladies first," she announces. Her hand quickly juts into the mouth of the jar and pulls the first slip she touches.

"Mellark," she calls out clearly. My chest tightens and I can't draw breath. I rapidly turn to Peeta at my side and cling to him.

"No, they can't take you again!" I cry out. His expression of horror must match my own, but his face is fixed forward. I look back at the crowd in time to see an impossibly small girl break from line to head for the stage. Her dark curls bounce with each step and her clear, deep blue eyes focus only on me. The bile rises in my throat.

"Katniss..." Peeta calls from very far away. His warm arms are surrounding me as I wake with a start. Pushing him away roughly, I leap from the bed. I run for the bathroom and make my target in time. I hear Peeta rise and in seconds he has joined me.

I haven't been sick in weeks. Not since the rather conspicuous arrival of several large vitamins and a sweet smelling tea. The day Peeta brought them to me, he also carried the news of his talk with Gale and my request from Wells to work the bakery. If I didn't know better of my husband's nature, I would have thought the conversation and new job served to distract me from the fact the he had clearly spoken to someone about the baby.

I griped over his slip up for a day until I woke the next morning feeling less nauseated. After that, I had diligently taken every pill I was handed and consented to the tea twice a day. It had quickly become an unspoken part of our routine and I never asked whom Peeta had talked to. I assumed it was my mother or Prim, but I was pleased he had also thought to demand their secrecy. I had waited for some pronouncement of joy or congratulations from my family, but when none came, I was relieved. I could keep up the game a little longer and I couldn't be mad at Peeta for his exceptional care of me.

In fact, the only complaint I did have was that the remedies he had gotten me did not alleviate all my symptoms. I was so tired all the time, which made the nightmares worse and my mood swings were horrible. I was quicker to anger as well as come to tears. I felt vulnerable knowing that simple words or actions of others could pull such strong emotions from me. However, the people around me seemed not to notice or at east vocalize my changing manner. Even Haymitch, who I knew must suspect, just laughed soundly the last time I ripped into him.

"Maybe someone else needs to handle the mail. Clearly you did something wrong if we haven't heard from Heavensbee yet," I scowled when he arrived at the O'Maley's empty handed for the eighth trip to the train station in a row.

"There's the little sweetheart I remember," he chuckled. I wondered over his words. The 'sweetheart I remember' must be the young Katniss. Had I really been that vicious before the games? I vividly pictured myself throwing a knife at my mentor over breakfast. Yes, I really had, I decided.

"Tell me," Peeta whispers as he trades the wet washcloth for a glass of water. This, too, had become a pattern for us. I didn't want to repeat my dream, but I already knew he would sit with me stubbornly until I divulged it.

"A little girl with your eyes got reaped," I summarize. I can't bring myself to say our daughter, but he'll understand the meaning anyways. He grabs me quickly, spilling the water on his pajamas, and cradles me to his body. He ignores the wetness seeping through both our shirts pressed together.

"No, never," he tells me. I protest with a shake of my head and his grip tightens. My emotions are stirred by his actions and sincerity. Unwelcome tears fall down my face and in an instant I feel anger for my weakness. I pull from his grasp and turn to the shower. He sighs, probably from irritation at my refusal to address the situation, and leaves the room.

After I am showered and dressed, I join Peeta for the second stage of our day. He prepares my meal, pills, and tea. He has tested several different options on me in the past weeks to learn what works for my sensitive stomach. Today, he has sticky cinnamon buns for me. They are bland, but sweet, and go well even on my worst stomach days. Things like eggs, red meats, or onion had become part of the off limits category. They each had the ability to provoke vomiting at anytime of day and had been strictly prohibited from the house.

Peeta's annoyance for my earlier fit has been long since forgotten by now. I, however, still feel angry. Not at him, but myself for my own lack of self-control and brash manner. I apologize for my poor behavior and I am rewarded with gentle kisses and hugs before I leave for the day.

"Meet you at the O'Maley's for dinner?" Peeta asks as he wraps a scarf around my bare neck.

"Yes, I'll go there straight after the bakery closes," I say eagerly.

"Wells left yesterday for a visit home with family and the city building closes early for the holiday. I might just stop by for some paperwork to work on and head out," he insinuates. Peeta would be bringing over the last of the files tonight. I nod in understanding and pull him in for one more kiss.

While waiting for the letter response from Plutarch, Haymitch, Peeta, and I had been diligently working through the Mayor's files. As time spiraled on from the departure of our communication, fear settled in each of us. We hadn't spoken our worries, but the idea that someone unintended had gotten their hands onto it occurred to all of us. Without discussion, the efforts to review the files and replace them in the Mayor's old hiding spot had doubled. If our letter had been seen, we were probably all dead, but we would at least make use of the information before they got to us.

I leave the house, stepping out into the cold morning air. Even though I have just woken up, I already feel physically and mentally exhausted at what awaits me at the bakery. The works was simple and easy enough, but the original Mrs. Mellark never failed to irritate me. This would be my third shift at the shop, but my first time without Peeta. Anne Mellark had been cordial enough to the daughter-in-law she despised, even reeling in all openly vicious insults about my upbringing or status. However, my constantly fraying nerves found it hard to take direction and corrections from the woman. Several occasions, Peeta had stepped between us to prevent my temper from coming out. I had expressed my concerns at returning alone, but in truth, there was nothing we could do. Wells seemed bent on pushing Peeta and I apart, at least in work hours.

As I made my way down the familiar path, I focused on another new routine of mine. The files that would be returned to the Mayor's office could not be copied for risk of someone finding the paper, so instead I had taken to memorizing the most important data. The initial idea to do this had seemed daunting, but Peeta and I, like the clues during the tour, had made a game out of it. Silently, I reviewed everything I could recall from my most recent findings.

'Snow's advisors, six in all: 1. James Alfred White, fifty-six years old. Married to Pricilla. No living children. Address 1854 Lincoln, Capitol, Panem. Service under Snow: over thirty years. District of birth: Two. Personal favorites: aged whiskey and beautiful female Victors. Pet projects: Hunger Games. 2. Winston Samuel Buckle, forty-four years old. Married to Allison. Two children, Winston Jr. and Albert. Address 841 Washington, Capitol, Panem. Snow's youngest staff member. Born in the Capitol. Personal favorites: seafood and capitol made cars. Pet Projects: Family values and Marriage laws...' I go over in my head as I make it the last few yards to the bakery.

I entered the back of the shop to find Jimi deep in conversation with one of the new bakery employees, Gale's old mining friend, Thom. The site of me draws them apart and I have the feeling I have walked in on something I was not meant to hear. JImi covers in an instant, warmly greeting me.

"Hey sis, good to see you," he smiles warmly. "Good news, mom and dad will be out of the shop the rest of the day running errands." I beam back at him.

"That's a shame," I say unabashedly and both men laugh at my poorly disguised dislike for my mother-in-law.

"Just the three of us then?" I wonder out loud. Jimi nods.

"Yeah, should be a slow day anyways. The Capitol distributed an early tesserae in honor of the holiday. But if you need help up front, let me know," he offers.

I make my way to the front of the shop and tie on the plain white apron waiting for me. I roll my eyes when I find a detailed list of projects from Anne. Despite my chagrin, I set to work. Just standing might be fun to annoy my mother-in-law, but it would only make the day go that much slower. As I slowly empty each display case and wash it, I continue my internal memory game.

'3. Mitchell William Ross, age sixty. Married to Wilma. Four living children and seven grandchildren. Address 33 Capitol Center, Capitol, Panem. Snow's longest standing advisor. Only remaining advisor from prior administration. Birthplace unknown. Favorites unknown. Pet projects unknown...' I replace several cakes onto the cleaned shelves. I run my fingers alone the list and grab a mop and broom from a nearby closet.

'4. Zander Wittmore, age fifty-two. No wife, no children. Address 2121 Denver Ave., Capitol, Panem. Service with Snow: five years. Former head Peace Keeper District Eleven. Birthplace: District Two. Personal favorites: organization, strict punishments, and cigars. Pet Projects: national security...' I tuck away the mop bucket and turn towards the kitchen door with a rag in hand.

As I wipe the handle, the door opens a sliver and a rushed conversation hits my ears. I still my body and listen with every ounce of concentration, as if a large buck has passed me in the meadow.

"What does it all mean?" Jimi whispers urgently.

"It means we have to spread the word and be ready. They're coming and it's going to change life here for good," Thom says. My mind reels, trying to make sense of their words.

"Are you sure it's good to trust them? What if they're no match for the Capitol?" Jimi presses. Who had told them about the rebellion? Had Haymitch been talking under the influence of drink? Or was this a part of the plan we were not privy to yet?

"Look Jimi, I know how crazy it all sounds. Really I do, but they have the power. The Capitol lies about them because they are so scared of what they can do," Thom explains. Was the Capitol scared of us? I thought they believed us gone.

"So that's it? We wait and prepare and allow District Thirteen to take us over when the time comes?" Jimi says in a hushed whisper. My heart skips a beat. I unwillingly take a step back in horror. I miss the next part of the conversation before I can regain my composer enough to listen more. I ease the door open again.

"...the Games," I hear Thom finish. The Games? The Games what? The bell tinkles over the door and I move to the register quickly to greet a customer. I wrap two loaves of bread in a flourish and almost usher him from the shop. When I return to the cracked door, all conversation has ended. I wait, probably longer than is prudent, but I only hear the scrape of pans on the oven racks.

I turn away again and clutch the front counter for support as I take in the conversation. Thirteen was coming and they were trying to gain support in the District. But when? Before the Games, or after? I couldn't know. I wondered if Jimi or Thom would tell me. Would they trust someone so close to the Capitol? It seemed unlikely. I suddenly wanted to flee the shop and speak with Peeta and Haymitch. I looked to the clock, almost eight. Surely they would already be at Ella's by now. I started for the kitchen, an excuse prepared, before my sensible thought caught up. If I left right away, it would look odd. I had to wait, at least a little while. My mind roamed around for distraction and I found the list on the counter. Pulling the prices from the front window, I begin to re-label each item. Still my mind wandered to the talk I had heard. I forced myself back to my game.

'5. John Wesley Rooker, age forty-eight. Married to Anastasia. One child, Sadie. Address: 2123 Denver Ave., Capitol, Panem. Service under Snow: nineteen years. Birthplace: the Capitol. Personal favorites: Classical music and fine dining. Pet Projects: District relations. 6. John Alan Michaels, age fifty-eight. Married: unknown. Children: unknown. Address: unknown. Years of service with Snow: unknown. Birthplace: unknown. Favorites: unknown. Pet projects: Presidential Public Relations.' I finish my monologue, as well as Mrs. Mellark's list. I eye the clock once more and, satisfied with the time that has passed, I put on my best sick act.

"Are you alright, Katniss?" Jimi asks as I shuffle through the kitchen toward the back garbage bins.

"I don't know. I'm just not feeling very well today..." I say weakly. As he approaches me, Jimi wipes flour from his hands on his apron. He gingerly lifts his fingers to my forehead.

"Maybe you have what Reese does. She's been throwing up every morning for a week," he says. I try not to react to the news of my sister-in-law. Chances were, if his time frame was correct, Reese had the exact issue I did. I shrug in reply.

"I better send you off, or my little brother will have a fit," he smiles kindly. "And Merry Christmas, sis," he swoops in to give me a brief hug.

"You too, Jimi. I hope Reese feels better soon," I say. It's not even a lie. I hope with all my might Reese isn't pregnant. I imagine she would be exactly like Mrs. Mellark as a mother.

After a quick farewell to Thom, I nearly run from the shop. I hope it's believable for someone so ill to move so fast. It's still early in the day and the streets are fairly empty. Free from the shop, I allow my mind to wonder. Thirteen, who had sworn off the rebellion, was now seeking out Panem citizens and planning an invasion. My mind cycles, seeking reasoning. If Thirteen was ready for another go at conquering the Districts, why not get ahold of the Victors or Heavensbee again? Without warning, I walk straight into a very solid body.

"Sorry," I say, trying to extricate myself from the individual I had not noticed before.

"Whoa Catnip, your observation skills are at an all time low since we've stopped hunting," a familiar voice jokes. I look up at the surprised but jubilant face of Gale Hawthorne. I take in my surroundings at last. I am halfway home already, standing adjacent to the train station. Gale, himself, holds a large envelope in his hands.

"Mails in?" I question. Even before he nods, I scan the area for Haymitch. My feet, almost of their own accord, shift away from Gale and towards the train, eager to check the mail.

"Yeah, but I already saw Abernathy grab what was in the box for your neighborhood," Gale tells me.

"Was there something in it?" I ask a little too loud and demanding. Gale eyes me skeptically for a long moment.

"Not sure. What's got you so worked up? Waiting on a Capitol love letter?" he teases, but I see genuine curiosity behind his smile. I realize I am doing a poor acting job. As of recent, I had been doing a poor job in general concerning my old friend. I had been caught up in my own world so much, I had even failed to see that he and his new wife might actually like each other.

"Oh yes," I tease back to cover, "I'm the next Finnick Odair, didn't you know?" He laughs, instantly distracted from real suspicion.

"Now I know you're full of shit, because you could never smile as much as that guy," he chuckles. As if to prove him wrong, I beam up at him, earning laughter from us both. The envelope he is holding is ruffled in his hands slightly. I notice it has already been opened.

"And who's your letter from? It must be something good if you couldn't even wait to get home," I retort. He is beaming at me again, and glances down at the paper he holds as if to confirm the information.

"Yeah," Gale says, "I passed." I can't stop the confusion that passes through me. Though I am here physically, my mind is with Haymitch and the potential letter he holds.

"I'm sorry?" I say dumbfounded. His face falls slightly for an instant. I feel ashamed for my recent lack on involvement in my friend's life. It was easier for me. I had gone years without seeing or speaking to him, but to Gale, the cool indifference I had adopted since returning from the tour must seem sudden and uncalled for. In truth, it's only his own safety I have thought about. Too much is happening now with the rebellion and mixing him up with it while he is working for the government would be doing him no favors.

"My last exam. I passed. They'll let me go onto training now," he explains. My heart sinks a little. I realized that part of me was hoping he would fail. Working in the mines or fields would not be as glamorous, but is a lot better option, in my opinion.

"That's great. I bet your family will be really happy." I try to sound enthusiastic, but it's dulled by my bad memories. I still have no desire to see Gale's true talents come to fruition.

"Yeah," he says, face falling. For a moment, I think he has picked up on my flat affect, but he smiles again, as if remembering something, "Madge is waiting. I should go. See you tomorrow for dinner, Catnip." He is off in a hurry with renewed excitement.

At the mention of my other friend, the conversation with Ella comes into greater focus. I wonder idly if Madge and Gale's relationship has moved forward. It's none of my business, but the idea that they are that happy together brings me great relief. I was surprised when Madge had come to the O'Maley's. I truly hadn't believed their makeshift marriage would work. Perhaps I should have realized it would sooner. After all, Gale had found a wife in my past life. And furthermore, they were both friends of mine and it made some sense that if they could both get along with me, they could do so with one another. I had a feeling that not encouraging any of Gale's affection toward me also played a big part in him moving on. The thought causes me some remorse. After all this time, I can see clearer than ever that it was my fault all along. If I had chosen Peeta from the start, I would have saved Gale years of hurt in our past.

As Gale leaves, part of me wonders if I should call him back and tell him how proud I am of his hard word. Maybe I should strike up a conversation about Madge and listen to his feelings on the matter. I could make sure he knew they had my blessing, if that mattered. Or at least I should acknowledge the Christmas meal we will all be sharing. However, my mind is too clouded with other thoughts and he is out of earshot before any of these ideas even surface. I could catch him, but now that he is gone, I want nothing more than to get to Peeta and Haymitch.

I set off at a steady pace, but do not run into Gale again. I pour my attention into my steps over the glazed surface of the usually uneven dirt path. When at last I reach Ella and Darius', I don't spare a knock before I barge right though. The living room I enter is in a flutter. Peeta and Ella are scrambling to collect and hide files. Haymitch is turned toward me with his single rust blade and baby Rosie cries from a blanket on the floor. I mentally note that someone forgot to lock the door and run back to do just that.

"Jesus, son, if you forget to lock the door, any old riff raff can walk right in," Haymitch scowls at Peeta as they reorganize papers on the coffee table. Ella has removed the crying baby from the room.

"You were the last one to arrive," Peeta accuses. "But never mind that. Show her the letter." Haymitch, with a slight grumble, holds a single sheet out to me. I grasp it and read hungrily.

Plutarch had received our letter, but it had taken time and quite a bit of money to replicate the stamp. He had finally been successful in producing enough for most of the rebellion leaders. A stamp with directions similar to what we had sent him were now on the way to several of the Districts. There was no news from the Capitol, but he urged us to share our knowledge and any new developments.

I finish the short note, ready to launch into the events of the morning, but Peeta throws me off by holding open a file in front of me. It had been at the bottom of the stack for days. 'District Relations' seemed almost pointless to review. After all, we already knew how One and Two felt about the rest of us. But as my eyes fell of the bold 'District Thirteen at the top of the page, I almost smacked myself.

"It seems old Undersee had more than a trick or two up his sleeve," Haymitch says.

"How much did he know? Who else knew?" I question as I scan the page for information.

"Years back, even before the Victors were talking, he was working with some of the men from the Seam. He thought they would be the most likely to revolt against the Capitol and want to join Thirteen," Haymitch explains. I soak up his words, my head turning up to gaze at him. Their reasoning made sense. I remembered Gale's anger in the woods. He was not alone. Oppressed men, starving and struggling to support their families, could only be pushed so far before they reacted.

"But it seems the Capitol caught on to at least some of it, and they wiped all traces of the revolt out. Or, at least, what they knew of. Undersee was never suspected," he continues.

"It must have been years ago for none of us to remember them arresting all those men and dragging them off to the Capitol," I rationalize. Haymitch shifts uncomfortably.

"This one's on you, boy. You're the one who married her." Haymitch has lost the roughness in his voice and the soft cadence that comes out now worries me greatly. He glances at Peeta, who has moved to my side. I turn to find my husband, a pained look on his face.

"Katniss, the Capitol didn't take anyone away that year," Peeta says softy. I tilt my head in confusion. He moves closer and wraps an arm around me. The anticipation and fear is overwhelming.

"What did they do?" I snap, but my voice trembles. With shaky hands, I accidentally drop the folder to the floor. When I try to reach for it, Peeta holds me still, and I am forced to meet his eyes.

"They buried them in the mines." My legs give away, and Peeta guides me gently to the floor. He holds me firmly against his chest and for a time, I allow the shock of the moment to consume me. When disbelief hits, I force my head over his shoulder and scan the floor for the loose papers. Easier than I would expect, I focus in on a sheet with the date of the mine 'accident'. I reach a hand out to grab it. I only look long enough to confirm that both surnames Hawthorne and Everdeen are listed as deceased rebellion members at the bottom. Almost involuntarily, I crumple the paper in my hand. I bury my face back in Peeta's chest and take long, slow breaths.

My father, who taught me to hunt, to survive; the man, who loved us unconditionally and worked in the mines to feed us day after day, and the husband who nearly killed my mother with his death, was also a traitor to the Capitol. He lived to protect us and died trying to give us a better life. I would never truly know what he must have done to keep it all from us. I wouldn't have ever even learned this much if it wasn't for the Mayor. I ached for him more than I had in years. How horrible and unfair that the efforts of great men like my father and Mr. Hawthorne were now lost.

'No, not lost,' I think suddenly. The rebellion, their own revolt that lies with the District's people, still exists.

"No," I say confidently, as I pull myself out of Peeta's embrace, "they didn't wipe them all out. They're just getting started..."

Chapter 24

M POV

Posy's whole body shakes as she sneezes loudly over her morning cereal. The noise startles me in the unnaturally quite house. Hazelle has left to do her laundry rounds, the boys, who are off of school for the holiday, have gone to the Everdeen's, and Gale ran to the train this morning to check again for his test scores. Only myself, and the little girl across from me remain. Her usual breakfast time chatter in dulled today by a night full of coughing. I watch as her eyes droop. Her small hand slides into the bowl, spilling the contents down her front and to the floor. The feel of the cold cereal on her skin brings a round of crying that would be expected from an infant, not a girl about to turn five. I jump to my feet to collect her, ignoring the mess I am making on my own nightgown. She calms almost instantly in my arms.

"Madge, my head hurt," she whimpers. I run my fingers along her forehead and feel the clammy heat there. Her expression is so tragic and precious at the same time. I can almost see a mini version of Gale's scowl in her tiny pouty mouth.

"I think it's time for a bath, Posy girl," I say kissing her hair. She doesn't protest, but doesn't give her usual shout of joy for the event. I fill the tub with warm water and lower her in. I surround her with every waterproof toy I can find and wait for the water to cool slightly, bringing her body temperature with it. She is distracted enough by our play to stay put, but when she gives a particularly violent shiver, I pull her from the bath.

I redress her in clean pajamas and tuck her into bed, leaving the heavier covers at the bottom. I retrieve a picture book from the small pile on the dresser, but when I turn back to the bed, she is already sound asleep. When either Hazelle or Gale returns, I'll have to see Mrs. Everdeen for a cold and fever remedy.

I take in my own state and laugh a little at what a mess I look. My clothes are covered with food and bath water and my knotted hair is half out of my bun. With the house empty, I quickly make my way to the unoccupied bathroom to shower. I don't waste time, knowing how fast the hot water runs out after just one bath or shower. I step out quickly and find the largest towel I can. I wrap it around my body, tucking it securely in the front, and boldly run across the short hallway to Gale's room. As I close the door behind me, I hear the front door handle slam into the hall wall.

"Oh boys," I shake my head to myself as I picture Vick and Rory entering the house. I make my way to the dresser and start pulling out clothes for the day, but I am caught off guard seconds later when the bedroom door swings open. I clutched the towel to my chest and turned to find Gale grinning at me widely.

"I passed," he says with pride thick in his voice. His eyes are fixed only on my face. His announcement pulls all other thoughts from my mind. I forget that I'm still damp from the shower and dressed only in a towel. I don't think about the door being open or how Gale might react. Instead I lunge forward in two long strides and throw myself fully into his arms. He wraps me into him seamlessly, pulling me off my feet.

"I knew you would," I almost squeal with delight into his shoulder. My arms wind around his neck, gripping him closer.

"Because of you," he tells me in a serious tone. He doubts himself, brushing off his accomplishment. How absurd and ridiculous to downplay his own intelligence. Doesn't he know how brilliant he is? Can't he see what a wonderful, kind, strong, capable man he is? I pull back to gain my feet again.

"No. I helped, but you're the one who sat for the tests," I encourage. He only responds with an intense stare. He is finally taking in my appearance. He unabashedly looks me over. I can see some emotion grow in his face, but I can't ever recall seeing it before. I resist the urge to turn away and hide from the scrutiny. I return his gaze, but I can't stop the blush that rises to my face.

Gale, as if making a decision, nods slightly, and then all at once, he is closing the door with his foot and pulling me to him again. He bends to press his lips to mine and his hands run along my bare back above the towel. My body responds before my mind and I find myself shivering under his touch with expectation. Just as suddenly as it began he pulls back.

"Are you okay? I mean with this..." he says huskily. Was this too fast, too soon? I didn't know but I didn't care. I already missed the feel of him. Without a second more of hesitation, I rest my hands over his chest and raise up on tip toes to capture his lips once more.

He sweeps me effortlessly into his embrace and my back is pressed to the mattress before I even break the kiss. I can feel his warm pressure over me, and his fingers run relentlessly over my exposed skin. Goosebumps rise over the areas he has traced, but my body only heats under his skilled hands.

I grasp him tight, balling my fist in his shirt, willing him further. He moves up my thighs and along my sides, until he reaches the top of the towel. His sure hands unwrap it, baring all of me to him. I blush furiously, but I can't bring myself to stop him, and I find I don't want to. I've never trusted a person so much in my life. I've never wanted someone to see me, feel me, or have me like this. But I want Gale.

As he trails kisses down to my collarbone and his fingers caress my ticklish stomach, I feel all my heat move to between my legs. I am panting embarrassingly loud. I feel him smile at my reactions as his lips move down further. I watch as he slowly traces my breast with his tongue and captures my nipple in his mouth.

"Gale," I moan out. I instantly hold one hand over my mouth to prevent further noise and the other knots in his hair, willing more from him.

"Does that feel good?" he says, his voice deep even in a whisper. I nod in reply, not trusting my voice, and he quickly moves to take in the other breast sucking harder this time. I moan again but it's muffled slightly by my hand. He continues until I think I might burst and beg him to touch me lower. I wiggle under him and I can feel his erection firm along my inner leg. I rub against it, and am rewarded when he hums his approval over my sensitive peak.

"I want to hear you," he tells me, pulling my hand away form my face and sealing his lips to mine. His words cause a tremble to run down my spine. Suddenly he is not close enough. My fingers find the hem of his shirt, and he helps pull it over his head. I sit forward to connect our bare chests. His warm skin is momentarily soothing. He takes advantage of the situation to place himself between my legs.

"Oh," I whisper when I feel him rock into my wet center. He smiles again, before his tongue presses into my mouth, devouring me. Still I want more. I reach for his pants.

"Not yet," he says, lifting my wrist together over my head with one of his hands. "First, tell me what feels good." The restraint of my hands makes me feel more exposed, but Gale's demanding tone sends a pleasant shiver through my body. I can't catch my breath to answer before his mouth is at the spot I like behind my ear, licking and sucking.

"That," I pant, "I like that." His free hand runs back to my knee, but progresses swiftly up my leg. He reaches my mound and gently presses his fingers between my folds. I moan unintelligible words.

"God, babe, you're so wet," Gale says in growl, as he moves up and down between my lower lips. I cringe, ashamed. Maybe I misunderstood Ella's talk. But before I can doubt myself more, he finds a sensitive spot and my mouth drops open.

"That," I gasp. His fingers run in circles around a firm knot forming.

"That what," Gale asks nipping at my neck.

"Feels so good," I moan, at the loss of contact as his fingers change direction and move down. He runs a single digit over my entrance before carefully pushing into me. I clamp my lips together to keep from crying out. The sensation is new, awkward, and slightly uncomfortable, but it also fills a deep desire. My hips involuntarily shift, readjusting his placement. I try to gain my composure, but Gale finds my sensitive nub again with his free fingers and all thought is lost.

Gale shifts, suddenly releasing my numb arms I forgot he was holding, and roughly pulls down his pants to expose himself. He springs free, larger than I had imagined and I am overwhelmed with nerves as I prepare for him to thrust into me. Instead he grabs one of my hands and wraps it around his length, as far as my fingers will reach. I try to remember what to do. Slowly, hesitantly I rub him up and down. I try to focus, but my attention is torn as he continues to work sensations out of me.

"Harder," he orders. I willingly comply. I grip hard and continue to move in an erratic pattern. The feel of him in my palm is equally distracting. The skin is soft, but unbelievably firm all at once. His palm falls over mine again, attempting to guide me. I follow his lead once he releases his hold over my hand. Soon he is moaning his encouragement louder than mine.

"You feel so good, so warm, so wet, so tight," he murmurs into my shoulder. He sets a steady pace with his skilled hands. I shudder under him, my legs quivering wildly. I feel silly and exposed, but I can't stop. Something great is building in me. I feel like I could break apart at any moment. I can't decide if I want him to stop or move faster.

"Please," I whimper. He jerks several times into my hand and I feel warm, wet fluid on my side. He collapses on top of me, but his fingers carry on.

"You're perfect," he whispers sweet nothings to me, before pulling my breast into his mouth and sucking violently at my taut nipple. I groan with pain and pleasure. His fingers increase speed, pumping in and out of me, while running furiously over my nub. I want to speak and try to articulate what's coming, but there are no words for it. I cry out as my release breaks over me. I feel myself spasm internally over and over. Nothing has ever felt this good and I lose myself in the sensation and the man above me. He brings his lips back to mine in a gentle movement, as he slowly withdraws his hand and eases back. The cold air of the room hits my flushed, overheated skin, and I shiver violently. Gale responses instantly, pulling me back into his arms. I mold myself to the contours of his chest and try to catch my breath.

I am so wonderfully comfortable in this moment that sleep starts to take me. There are things left to get done today, dinner to cook, Posy to check on, but I leave it all for later. I allow the rhythm of Gale's heart to lull me. This is how life should be, warm and content in my husbands arms. The moment is so sweet, I can risk to hope Gale feels the same. Just before I drift off completely, I think I hear him say, "You're perfect" once more.

Chapter 25

P POV

"Okay kids, I need some time to think this all over," Haymitch paces back and forth in front of us.

"You mean drink it over," Katniss retorts weakly. I shifted us to the couch before her retelling of the day's events and some of the fire has returned to her, but she still clings to my side. The crumpled paper in her hand a constant reminder of the bitter realization that has just come to pass.

"Well if you must know, some of my best ideas come at the end of the bottle, sweetheart. You should really try it sometime. Loosen ya up a little," Haymitch teases. Katniss tenses at my side, ready to strike.

"We'll pass on the white liquor, but we want in on what's going on in your head," I cut in quickly, before a fight ensues. Haymitch smirks at my persistence.

"I don't think you do want to know," Haymitch says wearily.

"We can handle it," Katniss tells him, rolling her eyes.

"Can you? Because what I'm thinking is not pretty. We are in one hell of a mess and it's not going to end well any way you cut it," he proclaims. If he only knew what we could tolerate, what we've already been through.

"Spit it out, Haymitch," Katniss says, getting more agitated by the second.

"We can handle it," I reassure him a second time. He only hesitates a moment more.

"I think if Thirteen wants Twelve, it's already theirs. They are stronger now and we are so far from the Capitol that the rebuttal to Coin's advances could take days. I think that picking a time anywhere near the Games will work perfectly for them because the whole fucking nation will be looking the other way. Plus, they'll conveniently have all of the Rebellion out of their hair and stuck in the Capitol. Which leads into my next thought: I think Coin still wants nothing to do with us and I don't think she'll take too kindly to letting us in. I would even guess all those people they have talked to in the Seam have been given specific directions to avoid us." Haymitch pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a long drink.

"But it's my brother. He'll talk to me," I insist.

"Yeah," Haymitch mocks, "the baker with a brother who's Victor and Mayor and a wife working with Wells, I'm sure they'll let him in on all the finer details to repeat to family." Haymitch scoffs at my ignorance.

"They already have," Katniss grits her teeth, "I heard them today in the bakery."

"What you heard was them telling Jimi anything the Capitol could guess or suspect on their own. It could be a test to see if Mellark is reliable. Or they might be counting on him repeating it all, planting false information to throw off Snow," Haymitch explains. Anger and fear rises in me.

"Don't they know what the Capitol would do to him? Even if he was just the messenger, he'd be dead without a second thought," I say desperately.

"Which brings me to my next point: in the unlikely event that half of the stuff they spoke about this morning was true, what do you think the odds are of your dear brother Jimi repeating it to you? He may not be a Victor, but he grew up here in the great District Twelve of Panem and he knows better than anyone how quickly they would cut out his tongue if they suspected treason," Haymitch says smugly, as if he has wrapped up his whole argument in a neat bow. I frown at his words, because as much as I want to deny it, I know he is right. After all, it's not like I was letting my family in on my involvement with the New Rebellion.

"So we can't trust what I heard, but we knowThirteen is planning something we can't stop. So now that you have spewed all the bad news, what's your brilliant plan?" Katniss grounds out, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That is what this is for," Haymitch wiggles his flask at eye level and takes another drink. We sit quietly as Haymitch continues to walk the small room, occasionally sipping at his drink.

"Put it in the letter back to Plutarch. Maybe he'll have an idea," I say lamely.

"What we need is more information, an inside person," Haymitch whispers as if speaking to himself.

"I'll do it." All of our attention is diverted to the hallway were Ella stands. Her posture is formal, conveying the conviction of her statement. He unnatural stillness reminds me of Katniss on a hunt and I wonder how long she has been standing there listening.

"No," Katniss replies quickly, but Haymitch is weighing her offer. He looks her up and down as if checking for reliability or spy skills from her exterior.

"I think they would believe you," he verbalizes his assessment.

"I already know Thom and some of the others. No one would accuse me or my husband of loving the Capitol," she reasons. Katniss shakes her head at my side. I scramble to quickly diffuse the situation, but I'm much too late already.

"No," Katniss shouts, rising to her feet. Suddenly her full attention is on Ella, who still hangs in the entrance to the room.

"You can't just throw yourself into danger. You have responsibilities here that matter. You have people who love you to look after. You have no idea what would happen to Darius without you," Katniss draws a long strangled breathe.

"Calm down and have a drink," Haymitch insist, shoving the flask into her shaky hands.

"She can't," I rip the container from her hands without thinking. Haymitch's eyes widen for a moment, but Katniss is still focused only on Ella.

"Parents don't leave," Katniss pleads with her, "what would Prim do..." she realizes her slip too late and we all already understand where her anger is really coming from. I reach for her, but Ella gets there first. Katniss resists, shoving roughly at her friends arms, but Ella ignores her.

"Katniss," Ella tries to soothe her. My wife's rage at her words only doubles.

"No," Katniss states plainly. There is a beat of silence and then Ella squares her shoulders and stares into Katniss' blazing eyes.

"Your father did what was right for his children. You and I have to do what's right for ours," Ella tells her with conviction and a glance at Katniss' abdomen. Katniss is deflated in an instant. Every bit of argument is lost with Ella's obvious knowledge of the pregnancy. Katniss sits quickly, averting her eyes and nothing more is said or decided.

After an awkward departure, Katniss allows me to take her hand and lead her home. She sits silent in the front room until I force her to the table for dinner. After several failed attempts at conversation I take her to bed, practically undressing her myself. Her state is alarming, but I try to hide my stress and worry; it won't help her now.

Her blank expression is something I haven't seen in years.

* * *

A/N for the long wait for this update. Life and writers block got in the way, but I'm back to writing now and have big plans for this story. I hope to update about once a week from here on, so keep your eyes on your mail box. I want to give a big thank you to all of you have who continued to comment and message me in support of this story! Especially to deirdre-of sorrows and nursekelly0429 who went as far to post on tumbrl their support of this story. Finally to my great Beta Erin, who even after all my months of hiatus, was more than willing to pick up were we left off. Without her you wouldn't want to read my story :) Please continue to read and review!

Thank you,

Jules

A/N 2. I hope you enjoy the addition to this chapter. I have one more section in Gale's POV to added to this chapter. I am working on it and it should be up shortly after christmas. As always thank you for reading and please, please review!

Jules


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